Savants and Soulfinders Series- Book One
by TheMarauderLife
Summary: Savants Evan Winters and Paige Miller are polar opposites. She's the energetic, extroverted clutter brain, and he's rich and famous- with the arrogant characteristics to match. Paige can read and manipulate emotions, but will she be learn to understand this complicated boy? Only time and impending danger will tell. (Includes Misty Falls and Benedict characters) *Rated T to be safe*
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: All rights of savant series to Joss Stirling._  
 _CONTAINS CHARACTERS FROM MISTY FALLS SERIES AND BENEDICT SERIES!_  
 _AU: So this is the first savant story from the series I'm working on, with Paige and Evan. Hope you enjoy! Please comment if you do._

 _Chapter One_

 _Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep…_

I groaned, rolled over and fumbled around in the dark until I found my phone, which was the object guilty of waking me up at the ungodly hour of eight fifteen. I didn't see why I had to get up so early on a Saturday- Dad's interview wasn't until eleven- but this once I'd obliged to his request. I knew how nervous he was.

I jumped in the shower, managing to knock over the towel rack beforehand- I cursed my clumsy genes- and eventually emerged feeling rejuvenated. Wrapping a towel around myself, I wiped away the mist on the mirror and scrunched the wet strands of my brown hair. How was it that I always looked like a drowned rat when I got out of the shower? Somehow, my oversized green-brown eyes made me look like I'd just escaped from the loony bin, and I sighed, wrapping the towel tighter around me.

Now for the next task- deciding what to wear.

As much as I'd grumbled at dad for forcing me to get up so early, I couldn't help but feel a little curious at the prospect of seeing the residence of the Winters. They were, after all, one of the most famous families in the world, and I knew their house would be filled with cool artifacts from all the countries they'd visited. I'd never really roamed further than London or Bristol, where I'd grown up, so the thought of flying all over the world like movie stars did felt pretty impossible.

Not that I was too buzzed at the thought of meeting another stuck up family. My dad was a reporter for a fancy magazine, and occasionally he got to do stuff like interview the rich and famous. If it wasn't a school day I had to tag along too, since Dad saw me as too much of a liability to be left alone, but it wasn't something I particularly enjoyed. The celebrities that I'd encountered were usually arrogant or snotty, or sometimes just ignored me all together, and I didn't look forward to meeting another bunch of self-obsessed actors.

Though, I had to admit I was mildly interested in the Winters since they were so famous- the most famous family Dad had ever interviewed, in fact. They were an American family, incredibly well-known, and a real catch for the magazine. Dad been working relentlessly at his job for years now, trying to make a good life for me, and this was an incredible opportunity. It was rare for Henry Winters, the father, to give interviews at all, but I suppose he was feeling generous since moving to England.

I selected a playlist on my phone, and a second later Shooting Star blared through my speaker. I smiled to myself and pranced around, being careful to avoid the pile of sketchbooks on the floor from my Art A level; I'd tripped on them the day previously and smeared paint all my feet and the carpet. Safe to say, Dad hadn't been happy.

 _Shooting Star_ reached it's chorus and I sung along- loudly and off-tune. It was one of Angel Devon's songs. I'd only met her a couple of times, but knew her through my old savant friend, Misty, who I'd met in in year eleven when Dad and I had moved from Bristol to London. We'd quickly discovered each other- which wasn't hard considering we were the only two savants at our high school- but we went to different sixth forms now. We'd stayed friends though, which I was thankful for. Misty was my only real link with the savant world, since Dad had pretty much shunned that life when my mum died.

I tried not to think of those days- it made my chest ache with a weird mingle of grief and longing- but back then Dad had been a pretty strong savant. He had an incredible photographic memory- he could recall the tiniest of details from years previously, and when I was little he'd rest his forehead against mine before I went to sleep and show me memories of his childhood.

I, on the other hand, had the same gift my mother had had. I was an empath, which meant I could sense and control people's emotions. I didn't know much about how Mum and her gift had differed from mine, but I did know she'd been a part of the savant net. Dad had tried to shield me from that part of my life as much as possible since she'd died- trying his hardest to make us as safe as we could outside of the net. He'd pulled a few strings with some close friends and now we were practically invisible, which I was fine with if it put his mind at rest. I just wish he'd open up more. I knew Mum and Dad had been soulfinders, but he practically refused to tell me anything else about them. I was a complete dunce on that topic compared with other savants my age. Like Misty.

But this year was going to be different, I remembered. I'd _finally_ persuaded Dad to let me go to the savant camp that Misty and all her friends went to each year, after trying hard for the past two years. I couldn't blame him for being protective, of course, especially after what had happened to Mum, but he needed to learn that I wanted to explore things on my own. I wasn't his little girl anymore, and I was certain the savant world wasn't as dangerous as he seemed to think.

I shook myself out of my thoughts- _back to reality Paige._ I had a bad habit of going off on a tangent, and I couldn't afford to on a morning that was as important as this one. After disdainfully eyeing my incredibly lacking wardrobe for some time, I finally decided on my old pair of trusty blue jeans, a mustard jumper with a pineapple stitched onto it and a khaki jacket that had belonged to my mum in her teenage years. I dried my brown hair, brushing it out and throwing the top half into a messy bun; grabbed my phone and span the globe in the corner of my room, stopping it with my finger to see where it landed. Puerto Rico. Cool. It was a little ritual I had- the closest I'd ever got to following my dream of travelling around the world.

I headed downstairs to where my father was drinking a cup of tea at the table, wearing his corduroy blazer over a blue shirt and a mismatched tie. He was freshly shaved, but his grey-flecked brown hair still looked as dishevelled as ever.

"Hey Dad." I greeted, grinning at his loveable fashion sense as I poured some muesli into a bowl.

"Morning." he muttered distractedly, already engrossed in the morning's newspaper. I rolled my eyes; it wasn't hard to see where I got my scattered brain from- Dad's attention span was worse than mine. He looked tired, I noticed. Probably stressed about the interview. Ever since Mum's death, he'd thrown himself into work and become more jittery about everything- especially before important interviews. He told me I was his rock, the one who could bring him back from the edge when he lost his nerve. I liked being someone he could rely upon.

Just as I began to eat my breakfast, Max scrambled into the kitchen, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He padded over to the table, nudged my hand until I scratched his ear, and then headed over to his bed by the door, collapsing with a _humpf_. He was a golden retriever, and Mum had spontaneously picked him from an animal shelter five years ago. Dad had protested at first, but he came around; no one could've said no to Max's puppy dog eyes- or Mum's.

I watched across the table as Dad's eyes narrowed at something he'd read in the paper, and quickly swallowed down my mouthful of muesli I'd been chewing.

"What is it?" I asked.

Silently, he turned the paper round and pointed to an article splashed across one of the pages. It read: DESPERATE DAVIS TAKES RESEARCH TOO FAR.

I quickly scanned the article to find the Davis bloke had been sentenced to five years in prison for phone hacking, after trying to get a story at a Rockport music festival- it was the same one Misty and her friends had been to, and I made an internal note to ask her about it next time we spoke. "That's the guy you used to work with, right?" I asked, passing the paper back to Dad.

He nodded. "Yeah. I've got to admit I'm not saddened by the news, though I do wonder how they pinned something on him. If Davis knew anything, it was how to go under the radar." From the photograph that had been printed next to the headline he looked like the type who could worm his way out of things- all beady eyes and smarmy smile. "I wonder who'll replace him at The Morning Star." Dad mused.

As he spoke, his fingers were tapping erratically on the table. Though I tried my hardest not to pry into people's emotions, I couldn't help but sense the apprehension that was seeping out of him, painfully obvious underneath the tinge of sadness that always seemed to be there.

"You nervous?" I asked. I could feel Dad's emotions as others could feel a vibration, or musical note- each person had a separate cord connecting them to me, and I knew Dad's tune by heart. I'd always struggled with properly describing how my gift worked- it was like a shadow or impression of someone's mental state was duplicated into my mind- I could _feel_ what they were feeling. It was hard to explain, but if I so wished could change it slightly, guiding the clashing notes to become softer and more pleasing to the ear.

My mother had always said that in a way it was an ability to heal people- mentally rather than of physically. I suppose Dad was like a patient of mine.

He chuckled, scratching his head. "Is it that obvious?"

I could feel it from a mile away. "Just a little. But you'll be fine."

He sighed, folding up the paper, and looking at me with worried blue eyes. "I hope so. I've met Winters a couple of times at press conference, but I've never done an interview like this before. This could be my big break."

I squeezed his hand across the table, since my gift worked better with human contact, and propelled my calming power towards him. "It will be Dad. You'll smash it."

He visibly relaxed, releasing my hand. I knew the tranquillity of his emotions would hold until we got there. "Thanks, poppet. You're too wise for your age, just like your mother was."

I laughed, taking another spoonful of muesli. "I don't believe that for a second."

He chuckled into his tea, and, feeling hopeful, I checked into his emotions. But no luck- the tinge of sadness was still there, as always. There were rare moments when it would disappear, but never for longer than a few minutes. I sighed; it was like a constant hole in my gut, knowing that my dad had a cloud hovering above his head, tugging him down. I figured that was what losing a soulfinder did to you.

The uneasiness kicked in when I climbed into Dad's old Porsche, and I tried to calm my jittery thoughts. Unfortunately, my gift didn't allow me to manipulate my _own_ emotions, much to my annoyance.

"Do I have to go?" I moaned, giving Dad the puppy eyes as he started reversing out of the drive. "Can't you let me stay home, just this once?"

I knew it was futile. "After last time? No way." Dad's voice was final, and I could sense his resolution on the subject. One of the side effects of my gift meant my own emotions could easily get out of control- and it just so happened that last time he left me alone my telekinesis had gone a little awry, meaning that my bedroom window wasn't quite as complete as it had been previously. I'd _meant_ to send the hairdryer to my dressing table, not rocketing out the window. That had been a hard one to explain to the neighbors- they all thought I was a nutjob now.

"Fine." I slumped in my seat, wishing I could stay at home and listen to more music.

I could tell Dad felt bad without listening to his emotions. He glanced over at me, his face softening. "Sorry, poppet. If it makes you feel better, you probably won't come face to face with any of those notorious Winters."

I laughed. "God, I hope not."

He bit back a smile as we pulled out of the drive. "Most girls would kill to be in your position. I thought every teen was head over heels for that son of his."

I groaned. "Dad, that's exactly what's wrong with people like that. They're completely in love with themselves." Not that I hadn't admired Evan Winters in the films I'd seen him in. With sweeping dark hair and that chiselled jawline of his, he was pretty easy on the eyes to say the least. But the best looking always turned out to have the worst personalities. I threw him a grin. "Besides, I'm not 'every teen'."

He rolled his eyes. "You can say that again."

The electric gates loomed above us menacingly. I watched Dad visibly swallow before he leaned out of the car to press the intercom.

The woman's voice that rang through the speaker was posh and polite. "Good morning. How may I help you?"

"Um," He scratched his beard. "I'm Michael Miller, reporter for The Illumination Gazette?"

"Oh, yes." Was it me, or did she sound distasteful? "Come right through, Mr Miller."

The gates opened and Dad drove on through.

The driveway seemed to go on forever. Summer trees lined the long winding road, creating an archway of reds, golds and greens that merged together; the sun shone through the gaps in the greenery, filling the endless tunnel with warm rays of sunlight. Beyond the road, freshly- mown grass seemed to stretch for miles, and the whole place had an air of wealth and luxury; bushes had been trimmed, the drive had been swept. Only the trees had been left to grow, entangling themselves in one another, and the effect was remarkable.

It was safe to say, I felt completely out of place.

Eventually, we reached the end of the stretching driveway, curving around the huge marble fountain that stood proudly in front of the house- if you could even call it that. I didn't know what I'd been expecting, but it hadn't been this; a modern building perhaps, with floor to ceiling windows and balconies and a personal chef. Yes, I'd thought the house would be huge, but this was like a _palace_. The mansion was a pale gold colour, stretching out in front of me; it looked like a hotel, with Greek-style pillars boldly marking the entrance, and windows glaring down from every room. Golden embellishments lined the huge oak doorway, and even my untrained eye could see they were real gold- nothing like the cheap plated necklaces I had at home.

Dad straightened his tie nervously, and I internally plucked at his frantic chord, feeling better when his face settled into a calming smile.

"Right. In we go then."

He set off determinedly up the steps to the front door, and I followed him. Before we had chance to touch the brass knocker, however, the door flung inwards, and a man in a smart suit appeared in front of us. He had slick blonde hair and oversized, gleaming white teeth, which were currently fixed in a professional smile.

He shook hands with Dad. "Hello, Mr Miller! It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I am Daniel Starr, Mr Winters' personal assistant." He turned to me, assessing my scruffy jeans and old jacket. I could sense his cord hardening, becoming taught with distaste. "And you must be Paige?" he checked. It wasn't hard to tell he was struggling to be polite, his voice slightly strained.

I nodded.

"Your father mentioned you would be coming. Come on in, both of you."

We followed him through the doorway into the entrance hall, which was a huge room laden with plush armchairs and coffee tables. A magnificent chandelier hung from the ceiling bathing the room in light; the wallpaper was golden, filled with swirly, spiralling patterns; the carpet was the colour of a warm summer sunrise, and paintings of faraway countries and landscapes adorned the walls.

"Wow." I breathed. Daniel glanced back at me, and I felt the distaste he'd been feeling lessen in its severity.

"Yes, it is a very beautiful home."

"You can say that again." Dad chuckled awkwardly, and I frowned. His emotions were frantic again- I could feel his nerves returning full force. Usually when I used my gift on someone, it lasted longer. It didn't make sense. _Must be a fluke_ , I thought, brushing away any doubt, and instead focused on calming Dad down again.

It didn't work.

I could sense the the strain in his mind as Daniel led us from the entry hall down a corridor, but it wasn't as strong as usual; it was like a diluted version of what I would normally feel. Confused, I followed Daniel and Dad. I tried to correct the clashing notes ringing in my head, but it was hard to think with the grandeur of the house staring me in the face everywhere I looked. The luxurious wallpaper adorning the walls of the corridor was decorated with expensive-looking paintings and carpeted with a plush champagne-coloured floor. Artifacts and artwork that appeared to come from all over the world were resting against and hanging from the walls, drawing away my concentration. Between that and my father's worries, I barely even noticed as Daniel led us into a small living area.

"This is one of the many drawing rooms." Daniel announced, motioning to the patterned sofas and sweeping curtains that framed the broad bay windows. I was only half listening, desperately trying to figure out why my gift wasn't working. Every time I delved into Dad's mind, nothing changed.

But hearing my name broke me from my stream of thoughts. "Paige dear," Daniel was saying, "if you could sit here whilst I take your father in to do the interview that would be lovely."

There was a pause; Daniel looked at me expectantly.

"Oh er, that'll be fine." I told Daniel quickly, flashing a smile. I perched on one of the armchairs, trying to look relaxed when my thoughts were moving a million times a minute.

He nodded briskly, keen to move on, but I could tell Dad wasn't convinced by my show of politeness. I could see the wires ticking in his head as he hesitated.

"Is that alright?" Daniel prompted, obviously tried his impatience as he looked between us.

"Dad, I'll be fine." I told him. "Go and do your interview. I'll still be here when you get back."

"Okay." he relented, "Let's get this over with."

Daniel nodded happily, opening the door and gesturing Dad through. As he left, I tried one more desperate attempt of boosting his confidence.

The door slammed shut, leaving me alone.

I couldn't stop thinking about the way my gift hadn't worked. What did it mean? I'd never had a problem with it before. Not knowing what else to do, I decided to call Misty, hoping she'd have an idea.

She picked up on the second ring. "Hello?" She sounded breathless with laughter, and I could hear the sound of some kind of competitive game in the background- loud shouts and bursts of hooting laughter.

"Hey, Misty. It's Paige."

She gasped. "Paige! Oh my god, it's been so long! How are you?"

I laughed at the enthusiasm in her voice; I could sense her joy through the phone. I meant to tell her I was good and had been keeping busy, but with Misty white lies were never easy. "Okay." I said instead. "I've been kinda lonely. You know how overprotective Dad is." I groaned as I finished. "Urgh, I didn't mean to say that."

Misty sounded sad. "Oh, Paige. You know you're always welcome to come up and stay. It's been forever, and Angel and Summer so want to see you again before camp."

I grimaced. "Wish I could. But you know what Dad's like."

"He'll lighten up a little, I'm sure he will. You're seventeen now."

"I hope so." I muttered, though I highly doubted that. "How have you lot been then?"

She brightened. "Great actually. Did you know Summer found her soulfinder?"

"Really?" I was happy for Summer- from the short amount of time I'd spent with her she seemed lovely- but the word soulfinder still filled my stomach with dread. I knew what breaking that bond meant- a lifetime of pain and despair.

"Yep. She's super happy."

I smiled. "I bet she is. You sound pretty happy too. What are you up to?"

"Oh, I'm at Angel's house with Alex, Marcus, Sky and Zed."

"Zed? The Benedict?" I'd only heard stories about the famous Benedict brothers and their soulfinders from Misty. My brow furrowed as I tried to remember their names- Crystal, Diamond, Sky… Phoenix, was it? And most recently Tarryn.

"Yep, that's him. He and his soulfinder Sky are staying in London for a while. They're having a table football tournament at the moment." She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. "Between you and me, it's obvious Marcus and Angel are whooping Zed and Sky's asses."

"It's _foosball,_ " an unfamiliar voice grumbled. I presumed it must be Zed. "And that's bull, Misty."

Misty laughed. "Yeah right!" she called. Her voice returned to the phone. "So, what's up with you, Paige?"

"Well," I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I wasn't meant to tell anybody where I was, but this was Misty. "You probably won't believe this, but right now I'm in Henry Winters' house, and-"

There was a resounding crash, and I could hear Misty curse. The phone crackled as she obviously tried to sweep up what she'd just dropped. "Oh God, sorry Angel! I'll clean it all up." she called, before her voice returned to the speaker. "You're _what_?" she asked, her voice a hushed whisper.

"I know, it's mad." I didn't tell her that I didn't really want to be here- Misty probably would have murdered me on the spot.

"What… how are you…?" she seemed to be struggling to grasp what I'd told her.

"Dad's doing an interview, but it's not as glamourous as it sounds. I'm just hanging out in one of their fancy rooms on my own."

"Still, you're in their _house_." I could sense the jealousy and incredulity tinging her words. "You're in Evan Winters' house! Oh my god, he's _so_ hot." There was an indignant "hey!" from the background and Misty giggled.

"Sorry Alex." she said. Alex was her soulfinder, who she'd met the year previously. She turned her attention back to me. "Paige, you can't just sit around. You have to take this opportunity to explore! When will you ever have this chance again? Have a nose around!"

I rolled my eyes, smiling. "I'll see. But first I need to ask you something."

The seriousness in my tone sobered Misty up. "What is it?" she asked.

"It's about my gift. I used it on Dad this morning- you know, to calm him down for the interview. But we've got to the Winters and it's just not working. I keep trying but he's still really stressed out." I could feel the panic clawing up my chest as Misty's presence extracted the truth in my thoughts. "Is there something wrong with me?"

I sensed her frowning; she was confused. "Wrong with you? No, I doubt it. I'm sure there's a simple explanation... You said it was working back at home?"

"Yeah, it was fine- it lasted a few hours before, but now I can't even tell how he's feeling."

The others seemed to have stopped playing. Misty swallowed. "Hold on Paige, I'll pass you to Zed."

I waited whilst she handed the phone to the older boy.

"Paige?" His voice was deeper than I was expecting, his emotions equally as deep in thought. I couldn't believe I was talking to a Benedict- another savant, like me. "How many times did you attempt your gift on your Dad?"

"Er, quite a few times. I kept trying so he'd stop stressing out."

"And it didn't work?"

"No effect whatsoever."

I could sense Zed thinking hard. "And have you met anyone in the house yet? Any family members?"

"No. Only Mr Winters' Personal Assistant."

"And was he a savant?"

A savant? Why would Zed want to know if he was a savant? I thought of Daniel, with his brisk, business-like manner and millionaire smile; savant's emotions were different to humans- their chords had a constant vibration to them, and I had known immediately that Daniel's didn't. "No, I'm pretty sure he wasn't."

There was a slight pause. I could sense the people across the line talking telepathically to each other.

"What is it?" I asked, suddenly feeling nervous.

"I think there's at least one savant in that house, Paige. Someone who's blocking your power."

I swallowed. "You do? Why would they want to do that?"

Zed's tone was grave. "That's what worries me. You see, savants don't tend to block power unless they have a reason to." Well, that sounded promising. Zed moved on swiftly. "How long are you there for?"

"A couple of hours at most."

"And where are you?"

"Er…" I racked my brains, trying to remember the name of the town. "Kingsbridge, in Watford."

Another silent conversation. "It will take us twenty minutes to get to you." Zed stated, finally. My heart skipped a beat. They were coming? "Just stay put, Paige. I'm going to contact my brother Victor in LA and tell him to check out these guys. For all we know, they could be part of the savant net."

"And if they're not?"

"We'll deal with that when it comes."

How the mood had changed so suddenly from lighthearted to serious, I didn't understand. I only knew that the strain in Zed Benedict's voice was not helping to ease my panic. "What should I do?" I asked.

"Nothing for now. Just stay where you are. We'll do the rest. Chances are you're perfectly safe."

"And my Dad?"

I could hear him hesitate before he replied. "He'll be fine. Just don't move or do anything rash. We'll call you with an update."

"Okay."

And with that, he hung up.


	2. Chapter 2

_Here's chapter two!_

 _Amy x_

Chapter Two

I know I'd told Zed I wasn't going anywhere, but if my Dad was in trouble then he could be damn sure I wasn't just going to sit there and do nothing about it.

Slipping my phone into my pocket, I gently pushed open the door that led out of the room and stepped out into the deserted corridor. I stuck out like a sore thumb in my frayed jeans and worn converse compared to the lavishly decorated walls and luscious carpet that surrounded me, but now wasn't the time to think about that. I made my way down the corridor as quietly as possible, not wanting to be spotted by any of the Winters' staff. It blew my mind that there could be another savant here, but I wasn't sure h0w much I believed it. When I'd discovered Misty, (or rather, she'd discovered me), to find out there were so many more savants had been staggering, and I still found it hard to believe there were so many of us scattered all over the earth. Especially here, right under the noses of some of the most famous celebrities in the world.

I'd got carried away with my train of thought, again, and reached the end of the corridor; it split off into two here, one corridor leading off to the left and one to the right. This house was like a maze. I listened hard, trying to see if I could hear the interview taking place, but the house was silent.

You're a savant, I remembered, rolling my eyes at my stupidity.

I closed my eyes.

Dad, are you there?

It felt strange reaching out to him in this way, hearing my hesitant voice probe in the darkness- it was something we'd only done when I was younger, with Mum. Dad didn't like to use telepathy anymore and I'd always figured it was something to do with losing her; even with the little information I had about soulfinders, I knew the bond was incredibly strong, and it seemed as if it hurt him knowing that he'd never be able to share that with her. So, I'd always refrained from doing it- but, this was serious.

There was no reply.

I made a guess and turned right down the corridor, frowning deeply as I tried to contact him.

Dad? Dad, where are you?

It was as if there was a wall in front of me, stopping anything from getting through. A wall of nausea hit me and my stomach twisted into knots as I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing all the force I could muster into the telepathic message.

Dad! Answer!

"Can I help you?"

I jumped violently, whirling around to face the jerk that was to blame for my heart attack. "You could start by not making me jump like-"

My heart stopped.

His face was striking- of course it would be- a chiselled bone structure, strong sweeping jaw bone inherited from his father, intense dark eyes that appeared even deeper in person, and dark hair that stopped short of his shoulders, falling almost perfectly into his eyes. He was wearing black, expensive looking jeans that fit him well and a smooth white t-shirt that looked like it had never seen a crease in it's life.

Evan Winters.

"Oh… sorry." I croaked awkwardly, clearing my throat. His eyes were narrowed and my palms felt sweaty under his reproachful gaze. If I messed this up for my dad I'd be toast.

"Are you a reporter?" he asked, his tone clipped and annoyed. I was taken aback. Normally people replied to an apology with something along the lines of 'It's fine', but then again, I suppose Evan Winters didn't necessarily count as 'people'.

"No." I glanced down at my pineapple jumper. Did I really look like a reporter? "Just the daughter of one. My dad's interviewing your father."

"Oh." His gaze lost its severity, though it still seemed to burn my skin as he peered closely at me. I followed his line of sight, glancing down at my outfit. This morning, I'd thought I looked pretty presentable, but now I wasn't so sure. He obviously agreed- I could almost taste the distaste in his gaze even if my gift wasn't actually working. I huffed internally; it was getting pretty tiresome meeting all these posh people stuck up their own arses. Evan Winters reminded me of a cold hearted prince- a boy who had lived his whole life on a throne, and didn't know the first thing about what it was like for the paupers at his feet. "And what are you doing here?"

Something about his haughty tone irritated me; or maybe it was just that indifferent expression he was wearing. "Why do you care?" I snapped, immediately regretting the words as soon as they left my mouth. Shut up, Paige.

He looked a little taken-aback, but quickly his expression smoothed into cold disinterest. "I was just wondering why you're sneaking around my house."

"I got lost." I grumbled.

To my surprise, a sparkle of amusement flashed through his eyes. It seemed the aristocrat really did have a soul, after all. "You're not scared of me, are you?" he observed, looking me up and down with a newfound interest. His accent, I noted, was American, but it seemed to have softened since he'd moved to England- nothing like the brash tones I usually affiliated with people from the US.

"Scared of you?" I spluttered, scowling. "Why would I be scared of you?"

"Most people are." he said, offhandedly. "They feel intimidated."

I refrained from rolling my eyes. This kid was so far up his own ass he could no longer see the light of day; he was watching me as if I was a strange creature at the zoo, as if it was amusing to him being close to such a boring, every day person. My impulsive streak wanted to knock him down a peg or two. Or three.

He smirked, his grey eyes lighting up with enjoyment. "You don't like me, do you?" he commented. "And why is that?"

My short fuse had reached it's end. "Oh, I wonder." I replied, voice dripping in sarcasm. "Because you're conceited? Or is it the cockiness? It's kind of hard to tell." Oh god, I did not just say that. Socially-awkward Paige instantly overtook from reckless Paige, leaping into action and making my cheeks flare up with embarrassment. Kill. Me. Now. "Sorry." I amended quickly, "That was rude."

But Evan Winters was doing something completely unexpected. Chuckling. It was actually a nice sound- low and cheerful and filled with warmth- and my head span. Who would have thought that insults would make Evan Winters laugh?

His smirk widened. "Don't apologise. Not if that's what you really think. You're the first person who's ever been that honest with me. It's… refreshing."

My frown deepened. "Seriously?" 

Evan shrugged. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have people tiptoe around you all your life? Everyone's always afraid they'll upset me, say something wrong. It's infuriating." 

"That must be really hard for you." 

He nodded sombrely, obviously not catching onto my sarcastic tone. "It is."

I refrained from rolling my eyes.

"So, what are you doing down here?" he asked again, changing the subject. He spoke less sharply now, which did nothing but add to my confusion, and I distracted myself by glancing around the fancy corridor. Like everything in this mansion it seemed, it too had a plush cream carpet and generously decorated walls. I could've asked myself the same question.

"I was looking for the toilet." I lied. Evan's words had reminded me of my Dad-I couldn't believe I'd forgotten about him- and I glanced past him,up the corridor.

He raised his eyebrows and I got the feeling he didn't quite believe me, but pointed to the place where the corridor curved around the corner.

"First door on the left."

"Thanks."

But he didn't step aside to let me pass. "What's your name?" he insisted, instead.

My brows furrowed together. "My name?"

"Yes, your name. I want to know who our guest is."

I noticed he said 'guest' instead of 'imposter', which was a start. "Paige." I replied reluctantly. "Paige Miller."

I watched as recognition seeped into his eyes. "Miller? So your father's Michael Miller? Yes, I know him. He's a nice guy." I thought of my dad with his mismatched corduroy jacket and salt and pepper hair and nodded, the iciness I'd felt before towards Evan starting to melt slightly.

"He is. Works hard."

He nodded. "He's one of the few reporters my father trusts with his interviews. You know what the majority are like- they'll do anything to get dirt."

I didn't know, but I nodded anyway. "Yep. Can't trust those reporters."

Another flicker of laughter flitted through his eyes- but just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. "You're pretty sarcastic, aren't you?" he commented, frowning quizzically as if trying to work me out.

I'd been told that before, but I wasn't going to give Evan the satisfaction of hearing that. Besides,I needed to find my Dad. "Not particularly. Can I go to the bathroom now?" I figured adding a bow to that question would be overkill.

"Aren't you enjoying conversing with me?" he asked innocently. Too innocently- I knew he was enjoying this far too much.

"Oh, it's just splendid." I replied dryly. "You're exactly how I pictured."

He cocked his brow. "Oh yeah? And how's that?"

I ticked it off on my fingers. "Tall, arrogant-"

"Incredibly handsome?"

I shook my head. "God, you are conceited." Sure, I'd met many brash males before, but Evan really took the cake.

He smirked. "Glad you think so."

"Oh, I know so."

There was a pause. I seethed silently.

"Weren't you going to use the bathroom?" he reminded me casually.

"Yes." I ground out, scowling. I felt irritated with the knowledge that he'd won one over me. Evan Winters was infuriating, and I decided I was glad to be rid of him.

I had just turned around when an authoritative voice echoed through the corridor.

"Stop!" the man called, and I turned automatically, standing beside Evan. He had slicked-back black hair and sharp, piercing eyes. His gaze was unwavering, fixed on me, and behind him stood four other men who were all as fierce looking. They wore dark pinstriped suits with clear wires running from their earpieces below their collars, like the bad guys wore in the Evan's movies. "Hold her, Randalls." he ordered sharply.

One of his guards stepped forward, and before I had time to react, grabbed both my arms, his fingers pressing into my skin. I tried to wriggle out of his grasp but it was no use; his grip was like steel. "Let go of me!" I gasped.

Evan frowned, stepping towards the first man who had spoken- he was obviously the head of security. "What are you doing, Crawford?" he asked, cold eyes flitting between Randalls and I.

Crawford's jaw clenched, his snake-like gaze crawling over me. "She's a savant." he snarled.

The words made my heart stop and my breath catch in my throat. They'd caught me.

Confusion bled into Evan's eyes and he frowned, glancing between me and the strange man. "How can you be sure?"

"She's been trying to use telepathy for the past ten minutes. We think she's trying to contact another savant."

Evan recoiled slightly, and I watched as all the emotion shut off, a wall slamming up behind his cold grey irises. He's angry, I thought. Betrayed.

But I didn't have time to think about that. My heart was thudding in my ears; it seemed I'd found the savant Zed had been talking about- the Crawford guy hummed with power. Now I just had to work out what to do next- it was obvious I was outnumbered, so I could only hope these people weren't a threat to me. But that didn't seem very hopeful.

Zed's words rung through my head: 'Savants don't tend to block power unless they have a reason to', and a sour taste filled my mouth as I realised I should have listened to him and stayed put; by looking for my dad I'd only endangered him further.

"What about her father?" Evan asked, avoiding my gaze and moving as far away from me as possible could in the corridor.

Crawford waved his hand dismissively, his narrowed eyes never leaving my face. "We did a thorough background check weeks ago. He's clean." Silently, I thanked my dad for his preparation- by making us invisible it meant these people weren't a threat to him. However, obviously they hadn't checked me. "It's this one who's the savant." Crawford continued. "And a sneaky one she is- very clever coming along to her so called 'father's' interview."

My anger flared. "What are you trying to say? That I'm lying about him being my Dad?"

Crawford scoffed, but before he could reply, Evan piped up. "What are you going to do with her?" he asked,without looking at me.

Thanks for the concern, I thought sarcastically, glancing around the corridor to see if there was a way out.

Crawford's eyes narrowed at me, and his hand clamped down on my shoulder in a vice-like grip. "Oh no you don't." he warned. "We're taking you in for questioning."

I didn't trust Evan and I sure as hell didn't trust this guy, with his eyes that seemed to penetrate my mind. Knowing I had the benefit of surprise on my side, I felt a newfound surge of confidence. "Like hell you are." I spat, directing a well aimed kit at Crawford's private area, before swinging my leg backwards, slamming it into Randalls. Both men let out surprised groans, grabbing their crotches, and I took that as my queue to run.

I was halfway up the corridor when Crawford screeched, "Follow her!" Much to my amusement, his voice sounded an octave higher than usual.

The rest of the security team must have been pretty stunned, or maybe just stupid, but Crawford's shout seemed to break them out of their stupor and they tore after me. I ran as fast as I could; my legs were fairly short at my average height -I'd been stuck around five foot four since I was fifteen- but I'd always been a pretty good runner.

The security dudes, however, whilst being big and bulky, obviously weren't used to chasing teenage girls around the premises; I could hear their laboured breaths far behind as I outran them.

But I wasn't alone. It was Evan who was catching up on me; he seemed to have joined the chase, sprinting along behind me. I powered on, pushing my body as hard as I could, but his legs were just too long. He had soon caught up, catching me by the elbow. I flinched out of his grip, but he grabbed my arm back easily.

"Let go of me." I snarled.

He slowed us to a stop, glancing around as if looking for the guards, before opening a door to our left. "Come in here." he commanded, his eyes unreadable.

He was just like the rest of them. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

He took a deep breath. "Please, Paige." His tone was gentle, and I softened at the look in his eyes; it seemed to have taken a lot for him to get off his high horse. I hesitated. My instincts were telling me not to trust him- but what other choice did I have? The footsteps were catching up with us.

Finally I relented, allowing him to drag me into the dark room.


	3. Chapter 3

_Please read and review!_

 _Amy x_

 _Chapter Three_

"We won't be disturbed." Evan promised me, releasing my wrist as soon as the door shut behind us with a click.

I stepped away from him, rubbing my wrists as I looked around the room. The lights had automatically flickered on as we entered, illuminating the study- at least, that's what it looked like. My eyes were instantly drawn to the old fashioned book cases lining the walls and the antique desk that was sat in the corner, a state-of-the-art computer perched on top. The room was of an average size and pretty modest design, but still I felt on edge, glancing around nervously as if a murdering psychopath was going to emerge from the shadows at any second.

A thick silence leake dinto the room, and I could feel Evan's curious eyes on me, skim across my skin like a physical touch. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Why did you bring me here?" I asked, breaking the silence. Still, I refused to look at him.

"You're a savant." he stated, and I wasn't sure if that was his answer, or he was completely ignoring my question. I had a feeling it was the latter.

"Yes." I met his narrowed eyes, which were scouring my face as if I were a puzzle to be solved. I hated the way he looked at me. His secretive manner annoyed me too, and once again a spiral of irritation swirled in my stomach at this cold, obscure boy.

"What's your gift?" He asked. He spoke casually, but for some reason I got the feeling he was desperate to know, eager for knowledge as if I were a present he was slowly unwrapping. The thought made me want to lob something at him.

"Why don't you answer my question first?" I replied, icily.

He looked slightly taken-aback by my frostiness, but his face soon cleared into that blank, uncaring expression I was beginning to identify as his default demeanor. "I bought you here because I wanted to. Now, what is your gift?"

I bit back my retort and sighed; I supposed it was natural for a non-savant to be curious about savants. Normally, my Dad would have murdered me for giving so much away, but since Evan obviously knew so much already, I didn't see the issue. "I can read and manipulate emotions." I explained. "I can feel what others are feeling and change it."

His brow furrowed. "How does that work?"

My brows knitted together, and I linked my fingers together in the way I did when I was nervous. "It's kind of hard to explain. It's like a vibration. Everybody around me has these invisible cords that I can sense in my mind, and each one has a different tune. When I'm near a person, I sort of feel a shadow of what they're feeling. So, if someone close to me is feeling really angry-"

"-then you feel angry too?"

"Yeah. That basically sums it up." I tried to hide my surprise that he'd grasped it all so quickly. Normally people were confused when I tried to explain my gift, but Evan seemed intelligent, wise beyond his years. Probably all that private schooling. "But that's only if I don't have a handle on it. I'm pretty good at controlling how other's feelings affect mine." Talking about my gift always bought back the bad days- the ache of Dad's harrowing grief on top of my own. I felt my fingers trembling, and curled my hands into fists.

"So, can you tell what I'm feeling now?" Evan asked, breaking through my thoughts.

I shook my head. "No. That stupid Crawford guy stopped that with his savant shield. I can't even use telepathy."

"Oh, that wasn't Crawford." he was fingering a silver ring he wore on one of his fingers. "That was my dad. His gift is shielding."

My heart stopped. "Your Dad?"

"Yeah." His brow furrowed at my reaction, his forehead crumpling into a cute little dimple. I shook my head. Since when was _Evan_ cute? "What's wrong?"

"Wait a second." I took a deep breath, trying to collect my thoughts. "Let me get this right… you're a savant too?"

He seemed genuinely baffled by the question. "Well, of course I am."

"And your Dad's a savant."

"We all are." He frowned and took a step towards me. "Look, I don't get what the issue is."

This close, I could smell him. For a moment, the scent was overpowering- a warm, piquant aroma that wafted into my brain, muddling my head into a tangle.

 _Focus, Paige_. I shook away my jumbled thoughts and took a step away from him to clear my mind. Maybe Evan's celebrity status was getting to my head after all- not that I'd ever admit that to him.

Something felt wrong, and a sickening feeling started to form in my stomach. With a start, I realised why. How hadn't I seen it before?

I couldn't read Evan's emotions. Even with the shield up, I could still get an idea of what Daniel and my dad had been feeling, but with Evan there was nothing. Just a dark void.

The realisation terrified me.

"I just want to know why you brought me here." I told him firmly. "The real reason."

He swallowed, but didn't say anything.

"Well?" I prompted, eyebrows raised.

He sighed, rubbing his temples with his thumb and index finger and let out a groan, looking away from me.

A minute passed in silence.

"I'm still here." I reminded him.

" _Fine_ , Paige." Suddenly, he whirled around to face me, his eyes flashing with an anger that took me by surprise. "I bought you here because I was curious. That's all. You don't know what it's like, being cooped up in fancy houses and flashy hotels, being swamped by press every single day-" The gears began to turn,locking into place. "I know nothing of other savants, of other gifts. I barely even know a thing about what I am."

"So, you didn't want to help me." I said slowly, realisation dawning.

He shook his head, jaw clenched. "I'm sorry, Paige. I just wanted to find out a little more about savants. But, Crawford's right. I need to hand you over to him."

I felt a surge of anger and betrayal. He had used me. This cold, petty, heartless guy had used me to find out what he wanted, and was just going to hand me back to his psychopathic head of security? I backed away towards the door.

"You jerk." I snarled.

His eyes flickered with something that looked a lot like remorse. What gave him the right to feel _guilty_? "Look... Crawford's not as bad as you think. You'll be fine."

"But you don't know where they'll take me, do you? You don't know what they'll do to me." I said, backing away, towards the door. I thought back to what my Dad had told me, years ago; I was only just starting to see the truth in it now. "Savants aren't always as perfect as you think they are, Evan. They can be ruthless, use their powers for bad instead of good. Do you really believe Crawford will just find out what he wants and then leave me unscathed?"

He hesitated before replying. "He's just doing his job. It's dangerous for my family and I- being savants with such high-profile lives. We need protection. We need shields, and we need guys like Crawford to check out potential threats."

"'Potential threats'? I'm _seventeen_." I was seething- I couldn't believe the nerve this guy had. My hand found the door handle. "I'm leaving, and don't you even _think_ about following me."

I tugged on the handle, but it wouldn't budge; I flung back around, looking to Evan for an explanation.

"It's locked." he said quietly, clenching his jaw. He was perched on the edge of the desk, his eyes emotionless again; that wall had slammed right back up, and I felt furious. Furious at him, furious at that Crawford creep, and furious at myself for not listening to Zed and getting stuck in this situation.

"Open it." I ordered.

Evan shook his head.

" _Open_ it." My voice shook with barely-concealed resentment, and- I realised with a start- _fear_. I was frightened, and it just made me angrier.

"I couldn't if I wanted to Paige. It's an automatic lock, and my father's the only one with a key."

I let out a strangled groan. I was stuck here with this jackass. We were sitting ducks, waiting for Crawford. I slowly slid to the floor, thumping my head back against the door.

I was useless.

"You're not useless." Evan corrected, scowling.

"You heard that?" I asked, too tired to argue.

"Yeah." He scratched the back of his neck, a surprisingly self-conscious gesture for a guy so sure of himself, and let out a half-hearted laugh. "I'm a pretty strong telepath when I want to be."

I frowned. "But the shield-"

"-is only there for people outside of the family." he finished. "I'm free to use my gift whenever I want."

"Why don't you read my bloody mind then!" I snarled, "You can see I'm no threat."

"I already have." he said quietly, his eyes never leaving my face.

" _What_?"

He rubbed his forehead. "I already have, okay? And I get it, I do. But I have to let Crawford do his job."

The news sank in slowly. I hated him.

I could see in his eyes that he knew it, too.

We fell into a heavy silence. I felt angry and exhausted. It was the worst feeling knowing what was coming and not being able to stop it, and even more frustrating knowing Evan wouldn't lift a finger to help me if I tried. Hell, he'd probably restrain me if I wanted to escape.

I closed my eyes, trying not to think about the near future. I could feel Evan watching me, his gaze brushing against my skin almost like the fleeting touch of fingertips. He was the most confusing person I'd ever met- one minute full of thoughts and feelings and energy, the next completely shut off to the world. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, and it was frustrating knowing he could read me like a book.

Suddenly, I was startled from the silence by my phone ringing. I cursed myself- how the hell had I forgotten about it? I quickly fumbled in my pocket, pulling it out.

"Don't answer that." Evan ordered, but he was too late.

"Hello?" I blurted, breathless.

"Paige?" It was Zed. "We're here. Where are you?"

"Oh God, Zed. Thank God." Relief exploded inside my stomach, and I jumped up from the floor. Zed's voice had instilled a new confidence in me, but still, the nagging fear resided; I wasn't free yet. Evan sat there, watching me like a hawk, but I ignored him completely, still filled with a fiery resentment towards the jerk of a guy. "I'm locked in one of the rooms on the the bottom floor with Henry's son, Evan." I looked around, there were no windows, no clues as to my whereabouts.

"We need an exact location, Paige."

I closed my eyes, trying to picture where I was. "You go through the entrance hall, down the corridor, turn left, left again, then you're on a corridor with lots of doors." That was the corridor with the drawing room on it. "Go down that corridor, and turn right. Then keep going along as it curves. I'm in one of the rooms there."

"Okay, okay." I could picture Zed nodding. "Can you tell us the room number? We won't have much time to search."

I turned to Evan. He was still watching me, his face taut with an unreadable emotion. "Evan, please." I begged him, knowing he knew exactly what I wanted. "Please tell me."

He shook his head, his eyes dark. "I can't Paige. And besides, your friends will never get through the gates. It's futile anyway."

But he didn't know my friends.

"Is that the Winter's kid?" Zed growled in my ear. "Is he giving you a hard time? Pass the phone over, I'll soon get him to talk."

"No, it's fine, Zed." I turned to Evan. "If it's futile then it won't matter then, will it? Just tell me. Please, Evan. Read my mind. You know I only want to get out of here."

He looked at me for a long time, his jaw clenching and unclenching, before he sighed, turning away.

"Nineteen." he muttered.

My stomach did a little somersault. "Thank you! Nineteen, Zed. It's nineteen."

"Right. We'll be there as quickly as possible." He ended the call, and relief spread through my chest. They were coming.

"Who are your friends?" Evan asked me once the call was over.

"No one you need to worry about."

He sighed, frustrated. "You know, I did just help you, Paige. You could at least talk to me."

"Talk to you? Evan, why the hell would I want to _talk_ to you? You completely screwed me around and were planning on handing me over for interrogation."

He swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry's not going to cut it, I'm afraid." I crossed my arms across my chest defensively and determinedly turning my head the other way, refusing to look at him.

Evan was completely quiet, and eventually the temptation to see what he was doing was too much. I peeled my eyes away from the spot on the wall I'd been stubbornly watching to glance over at him. He was still perched on the edge of the desk, leaning back, his long legs extended in front of him, but his gaze was glued to a photo frame perched on the top of the desk. It was the first time I'd seen that much emotion in his eyes, and it made me sort of sad. I could tell that, had my gift been working, Evan's emotions would be a lot more complicated than I'd first thought.

"What's that?" I asked, finally, unable to hide my curiosity.

Evan jumped, quickly placing the frame on it's front. "Nothing." he said sharply.

I deflated, ashamed at myself for prying when I was trying so hard to ignore jerkface himself. It was now his turn to stare off into space. He was resolutely avoiding my gaze, hands curled into fists, and I felt a tinge of guilt. _Why should you be guilty?_ an inner voice complained. _He's the one who treated you like crap._ But I knew that wasn't completely true. We'd both worked to make this a complete disaster.

"Look, Evan-" I began, but before I could finish, the sound of muffled footsteps approaching down the corridor reached my ears and my heart lept into my throat. Had Crawford and his men found us?

I pressed my ear to the door, and was rewarded with a snatch of muffled conversation- "-said she was locked in. We're gonna have to find a key, Zed."

I instantly recognised Misty's voice. "They're here!" I exclaimed, filled with a bouncing excitement. I knocked loudly on the door. "Misty, in here!"

"Paige!" she squealed, shoving her face against the crack in the door, and was instantly met with a harsh ' _shh_!'. She hastily dropped her voice to a whisper. "Sorry guys. But that's her!"

There were a few shuffles and I strained to hear what was happening. "Paige, have you got a key?" Misty asked.

I rolled my eyes. "If I did, do you really think I'd still be in here? The only guy that's got one is Henry Winters."

Misty swore and relayed the information to the others. I could hear them muttering softly to one another, deciding on a plan of action.

"Paige it's okay." Misty said eventually. "Alex is going to do his thing."

"Cool." I knew Alex, Misty's soulfinder, had a knack with doors, so it'd be cool to see the gift in action.

There was a long pause, and we waited with baited breath to see what was going to happen, but the door didn't seem to be opening.

Faintly, I could hear Alex's annoyed voice. "It won't work. Something's blocking me."

Someone swore again, and there was another muffled conversation.

Finally, Zed spoke up. "Alright, Paige. We're going to need you to step right back."

"Okay." I swallowed, hearing the warning in his voice, and quickly scrambled up, standing as far away from the door and from Evan as possible in the small room.

There was another long pause where my heart hammered in my chest. Time seemed to move slowly. Then, running footsteps, a rush of wind, and the door crashed open.

Zed and Alex appeared, both wearing the mischievous, boyish grins that only breaking things could bring. But their smiles quickly faded as they laid their eyes on Evan.

"So this is the Winters kid." Zed announced, taking a step towards him. He looked kind of similar to Evan, I noted, with his tall height, broad shoulders and dark hair. But Evan didn't have the same hispanic heritage as Zed, and his eyes, though icy, were softer, framed with dark eyelashes. Evan was more effortlessly elegant, less rough around the edges than Zed- and, if I had to describe him in one word, more _groomed_.

The boys had a silent standoff as Misty and I embraced. "I'm so glad you're okay." she told me seriously, looking me up and down.

I laughed, a relieved sound. "Me too. Thank you so much for coming to get me."

She flashed me a grin. "Any time. But, er, Zed?" She turned back to the older boy, who was currently glaring at Evan. "Shouldn't we get going?"

Zed glanced back at the open door, running a hand through his hair. "Shit. Yeah. We've gotta run." He turned back to Evan. "But, if I ever see you again, rich-pants, I _will_ punch you in the face."

Evan nodded, his eyes cool. "Dually noted."

"Come on Paige." Zed called, holding open the door. The others followed him, but just before I left, I glanced back at Evan.

His body had slumped, the mask slipping from his features, and for the first time since meeting him I could sense a shadow of how he was feeling.

Ignoring the pricking sensation in my chest, I turned away from him.

Zed and Alex led the way out of the building, glancing around for any signs of Crawford and his men, but thankfully they appeared to be long gone. I could only hope by the time they spotted us on any security cameras we would be also. I scrambled to keep up with the others, who were moving hurriedly, turning down twisting corridors.

Eventually we reached the entrance hall where Daniel had greeted Dad and I.

"Come on." Zed said hurriedly, "Sky, Marcus and Angel are just outside." They all headed to the front door, but I hesitated.

"Paige, we have to hurry." Misty said, holding out a hand, "they could be here any second."

I turned to Zed. "What about my dad?" I asked anxiously.

He hesitated, frowning. "Is Crawford after him? Do they know about his gift?"

"No. They didn't think he was a savant. I think they thought I was lying about knowing him- that I'd used my gift on him somehow."

He relaxed. "Okay, that's good. He's safe."

My stomach jolted. "You mean we're just going to leave him here?"

Zed looked at me, and I could sense his pity. "Sorry Paige, but he's safe. You're not. We're all putting ourselves in more danger the longer we stay here."

I glanced at Misty who was looking at me with sympathy. I felt like something alien was crawling around in my stomach. "We can't leave him. He could get hurt."

"Paige, come on." Zed said impatiently. "We need to go."

I crossed my arms stubbornly over my chest. "I won't abandon him. What if-"

But before I could finish, Daniel entered the room. He was carrying a half-eaten tray of biscuits and humming to himself, but when he saw us, his eyes widened with horror. "What are you doing here?" he squeaked, the colour leaving his face. "I'll call security!"

Alex quickly jumped in, using his persuasive power. "No no, don't do that. Everything's fine. It's all okay. We were just leaving."

"It is certainly not okay!" Daniel retorted, crossly. He pulled out a sleek black phone. "And I don't think the police will think so either! How did you get in here?"

Alex clenched his jaw angrily. "My gift's still not working." he muttered, "We need to get out of here."

Zed looked at me. "Come on Paige. We have to leave. Now."

Misty took my hand gently. "You're Dad will be okay, Paige." she said, gently. "Victor will make sure he doesn't get hurt."

The truth in her words was comforting, but still I felt like my heart was being torn in two. Thinking of my Dad, alone in a room full of potentially dangerous savants made my skin crawl; it was as though I was going against everything I believed in, leaving him behind.

"Paige." Alex pressed, glancing at Daniel, who was having a hurried conversation with the police.

Finally, I nodded, swallowing my objection. "Okay." I said hoarsely. "Let's go." Misty squeezed my palm and we swiftly left the Winters' manor.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey! Glad you're all enjoying the story! To the guest that said the story wasn't working, is the problem fixed now? Thanks for all the lovely reviews and please carry on reviewing x_

 _Chapter Four_

Outside, I spotted Angel, Marcus and Sky in a battered-looking blue car. They gestured to us to hurry up, and we all squeezed in. Zed hopped in the driver's seat and sped down the long drive way, away from the house of savants and my father.

We made it out of the gates and onto the main road that would take us to safety with no problem. As we got further away from the manor, my gift began to return and I found I could sense what everyone was feeling; they were all in high spirits, filled mainly with relief, it appeared, that they had managed to get me out okay- but I could sense the deep sadness Misty felt for me. I pushed my own self-pity to the back of the mind and determinedly changed the subject.

"Where abouts do you live then, Angel?" I asked the blonde girl who was sat two seats away, next to Misty. It had been a long time since I'd last seen her and she hadn't taken her curious eyes off me- I now understood how Misty had described her as 'slightly unsubtle' a long while ago.

"North London, Southgate way." she replied, smiling at me cheerily. She was fascinated by me, it appeared, if her thoughts were anything to go by.

"You came from Southgate? How did you get here so fast?" I asked, incredulous.

"My driving skills." Zed called, throwing a grin over his shoulder. He was happier now he'd got the job done, it seemed, and he was sitting next to his soulfinder.

Sky rolled her eyes. "You mean by braking every English traffic law in existence. I'm surprised he even stayed on the right side of the road."

"You mean the _left_ side." Zed replied, winking at her.

"Is this your car then?" I asked Zed, brow furrowed.

From beside me, Angel grinned. "I don't think they'd bring their car over from America, Paige."

I blushed as Misty elbowed her friend. "Don't embarrass her." she scolded, turning to me. "This is Alex's car." she explained, smiling gently at me. I was grateful for her concern- it wasn't often people were careful not to hurt my feelings. "It was the only one we had at Angel's house, since both her parents were out."

"You have a car?" I asked Alex. "That's cool."

"Yeah." he grinned. "I won another debate competition- but this one had a prize, so I thought I'd splash out and show off to Misty." He frowned at his said girlfriend- who was now giggling. "That last bit wasn't meant to come out."

"Sorry." Misty grinned, not looking the slightest bit apologetic.

"Wait a second," I frowned again, confused. "If this is Alex's car, why is Zed driving?"

Marcus raised his eyebrows. "You're pretty observant, aren't you Paige? Don't miss a thing."

"Alex's only got a permit." Angel said. "He's only meant to be driving with a qualified driver in the passenger seat."

"I had Misty." Alex protested.

"Yeah, and the closest thing she's got to a driving license was her Legoland permit." Angel retorted, rolling her eyes.

"What's 'Legoland'?" asked Zed, confused.

" _Anyway_ ," Angel continued, returning her gaze to me. "When Zed found out that Alex had driven himself and Misty to my house without a full license, he refused to let him drive here. Hence the Benedict boy in the front seat."

"Couldn't you get done for that?" I asked Alex, wide eyed, "Driving without a license?"

Angel's eyes twinkled. "He can be very persuasive when he wants to be." she explained.

"They'd never stop me, anyway. I'm a great driver." Alex grumbled moodily.

Misty grimaced at the lie, but her eyes were twinkling with amusement. "Yeah, if 'great' means 'awful'."

Alex rolled his eyes, but he was smiling good-naturedly.

The group of savants babbled on, and although I still felt worried for my father, they soothed the ache with their relaxed chatter. We decided it was safer for Dad if I didn't call, and instead waited for him to do so, but still my fingers itched to speak to him.

Eventually, we made it back to Angel's house.

"My parents are at a wedding," she explained as we entered her empty home. It was a nice place- bigger than our house, and had a homely feel to it. "So you can stay for the weekend with the others."

"Are you sure?" I asked her, surprised at her hospitality.

"Of course! You're welcome anytime." she assured me.

"Thanks, Angel. It means a lot."

She led me into her living room as the others cluttered into the house and I eyed up the photographs of her and her family on the walls. The house was filled with pictures of a smiling Angel standing between her parents, grinning up at them, and I felt a pang in my chest. It was hard sometimes, being the only person you knew with one parent.

"I'll put some pizza in." Angel said quietly, reading my expression. So, she was more observant than Misty gave her credit for. I smiled my thanks as she tugged Marcus into the kitchen, and headed to the doorway in search of the bathroom. But, just as I was about to step into the hall, my phone rang. I jumped out of my skin and scrambled to answer it.

"Dad?" I asked, breathlessly.

"Where are you?" He sounded furious. "My interview was interrupted for Daniel to tell me that you ran off somewhere with a bunch of friends! You know how important today was for me Paige, you know how hard I've worked, and just to go charging off like that was so-"

Just hearing his voice, safe and warm and familiar, made me want to cartwheel around Angel's living room. I refrained from doing so and quickly interrupted his angry rant. "I know Dad." I said, "And I'm so, so sorry."

He humphed. "Well, sorry isn't going to cut it, Paige. Where _are_ you?"

I hesitated, deliberating whether to tell him about Henry Winters being a savant, but quickly decided against it. That could wait for later. "A friend of mine had a family emergency. They needed my help and I had to go. You know I wouldn't have done it if it wasn't important, Dad."

He paused and I could tell he was mulling it over. I waited with baited breath, and, finally, he sighed. "You're right." he replied, his voice sounding resigned. "I suppose you can't tell me what this emergency was?" he added.

I smiled with relief. "Top secret, I'm afraid. But I may have to stay here tonight."

"I'm not sure about that, Paige."

I scrunched my eyes together. "Please, Dad. This is important."

Another pause. "Fine." He didn't sound happy about it. "But you're explaining all of this too me when I get back, understood?"

"Okay." I grinned. "I love you, Dad."

"You're going to be the death of me." he grumbled. "I love you too, Poppet." And with that, he hung up.

Angel's pizza was slightly charred but tasty nonetheless, and sitting around in her living room with all the others, it felt nice chatting over the comfort food. I knew I should have felt like the odd one out surrounded by couples, but everyone was so friendly and welcoming it was hard to do so. I scratched at the faded silver glitter on my bitten nails as we watched corny American TV shows that had Zed grinning and Angel cackling and smiled to myself.

Angel set up a bed for me on the floor of her bedroom. Sky and Misty were staying in her parents' bedroom, the boys were in the spare room and she was staying in her own bed, since Angel's parents had a strict single-sex room condition to everybody visiting. "Puffy pillows or squidgy pillows?" Angel asked me, laying out a duvet on the mattress. Misty was stretched out on her bed and Sky sat by the dressing table, plaiting her hair.

"Definitely go for puffy Paige. They're by far the best." Misty stated firmly.

'I don't know," Sky mused. "I personally prefer spongier pillows. I used to have a memory foam one when I lived in England."

Angel grinned. "Well, I'm afraid that's not on offer here." She raised her eyebrows. "Paige?"

"Puffy will be fine thanks." I laughed, attempting catching the pillow she threw at me- I misjudged, however, how hard Angel's throw was, which ended up smacking me in the face.

Angel and Misty both burst out laughing simultaneously, making SKy whirl around in her seat to see what all the excitement was about.

Of course, I had to get my revenge.

It had soon turned into a full-fledged, squealing and giggling pillow fight- but not like the ones you saw in the movies. Not, this was all-out, every-girl-for-themselves, war. I tactically crawled across the floor, karate chopping Sky with my pillow and smashing into Angel with a hefty blow- or at least, attempted too. Instead, I slipped on the corner of my duvet and toppled on the floor, taking down a laughing Misty with me. We lay there, breathless with laughter, until the sound of running footsteps echoed down the hallway. Zed, Marcus and Alex appeared, all wearing pyjamas and looking royally ruffled.

We looked at them questioningly and watched as they surveyed the scene, their faces filling with barely-concealed relief.

"We thought some kind of massacre was occurring." Zed commented dryly.

Sky let out a breathy laugh. "You guys always overreact. Just a pillow fight, nothing dangerous."

Alex glanced at me and Misty on the floor, one eyebrow raised. "I don't know about that. It looks like a warzone."

Angel giggled. "You're right about that. Paige is vicious."

I smirked, wiggling my eyebrows evilly. "My pillow is a weapon not to be underestimated."

They all laughed at that, and I couldn't help but laugh too.

The others left to clean their teeth and get ready for bed, but just before I could follow them, my phone buzzed. Curious at who would be texting at eleven- my Dad was usually asleep by now- I checked it.

An unknown number.

I started, my heart thumping wildly as I swiped across to open the message.

 _Paige, I'm sorry about what happened. It was a mistake and I want to make it up to you. We need to talk. Evan x_

 _Evan_? Why the hell was he texting me? And how did he get my number? Evan was a celebrity- someone who's face was plastered all over magazines, all over the world. And on top of that, he was a cold, arrogant arsehole with the mood swings of a pre-teen. What did he want with me? Part of me wanted to slam the phone down, block the number and completely ignore the fact that we had ever met. But, curiosity won out. My heart was slamming into my chest as I quickly text back a reply.

 _What did you have in mind?_

I tapped my fingers frantically on my screen as I awaited his response, glancing towards the door to check no one was coming; I had the feeling that the others wouldn't be quite so happy with me talking to the boy who had practically imprisoned me. He didn't reply for some time and I could feel my stress levels rising at the prospect of the others returning.

But just as I considered texting him again, my phone began to buzz. I stared down at the number on the screen and my heart jumped into my throat. Evan Winters was calling me. _Now is not the time for a freak-out moment_ , I thought, taking a calming breath and trying to relax my shaking hands. I picked up the phone.

"Hello?" I croaked.

"Paige?" His voice was lower than I remembered- rugged and warm and deep. It sent prickles running along my skin.

"Hey." I said, lamely.

"Look, I er…" he hesitated and I could sense his awkwardness through the phone. "I just wanted to say I'm really sorry for everything that happened."

"It's okay." I blurted, then cursed myself. You're letting your panic get to you, Paige. "I mean it's not okay, so don't do it to anyone else. But… you're forgiven, Evan."

Was that a trace of a smile in his tone? "I won't. And thank you."

"It's okay." There was an awkward pause, where I racked my brains for something to say. Nothing came up. "Was there anything else?" I asked, finally.

"Oh… yeah. I, well I-" It was weird hearing someone so smooth and confident stumble on his words, and strangely reassuring at the same time.

"Yeah?"

He sighed. "I wanted to make it up to you. So, I was wondering if I could see you in person sometime, apologise properly."

He wanted to see me in person? My heart hammered in my chest. The resentment I'd felt towards him was melting away as he wooed me with his manners, but at the back of my mind alarm bells were ringing. This seemed too good to be true.

I swallowed. "Where were you thinking?" I asked.

"Well there's this restaurant, Arnaldo's, in Westminster. It's five star, great food and service. My father and I go there a lot."

I wrinkled my nose at the thought- fancy tables, people waiting on you hand and food. It didn't seem like my kind of place.

"I don't know, Evan…"

"You don't want to." He stated it like a fact, his voice firm, masking any disappointment.

"No, that's not it. I just…" I sighed, rubbing my forehead. "How about we go somewhere else?"

"Somewhere else?" He sounded surprised, and I grimaced; he was probably annoyed I was changing his plans.

"I know a place in Farringdon called The Charterhouse. You could meet me there? You'll have to take the Barbican."

There was a pause. "The tube?"

"Yeah. Haven't you ever been on it?" I asked. My Dad hated me getting it on my own, but I didn't usually listen to that; I'd always thought I was the only one with those kind of rules in place.

He scoffed. "Of course I have."

I grinned, knowing full well he hadn't. "Awesome. I'll see you tomorrow then. What time?"

"Er, eleven?"

"It's a date!" I hung up, cringing at my words. 'It's a _date_?' What the hell was that? It definitely _wasn't_ a date.

I thought about The Charterhouse. It was a quiet part of London, a little museum open to the public, and I'd often gone there with my Mum when I was young. It was a nice place, but as I begin to think of the logistics, the worry sank in- a quiet, secluded area- it was perfect for an enemy, and I wasn't so sure as to whether that definition included Evan yet, or not; I hoped the latter, but this was a risk, and a big one at that. If something happened to me this time I wasn't sure the others would be quick to help me out- I'd be walking into trouble, for starters, and something told me if this was a setup Evan's people would be sure I could not escape this time. I thought of his face- of the emotions that were impossible to read, of the way that wall had slammed up behind his eyes. He was dangerous, unpredictable, and I didn't know the first thing about him. But still… I could tell there was something lurking just beneath the surface, and the desire to find out what that was hounded me. I'd never met someone who I couldn't read, ever. Part of me wanted to see if I could crack his code, and the other half just wanted to see whether my gift would work on him away from the shields and protection of his home. And as always, my curiosity compelled me- I never had been able to withhold my nosiness.

I couldn't sleep in Angel's house- don't get me wrong, the bed was comfy and the room was warm, but I couldn't stop tossing and turning, thoughts shifting manically from my dad to Evan and back again. I knew I was looking too far into it, but something in my gut told me not to let it go. To make matters worse I was a night owl, used to staying up late, and the others had crashed early thanks to the hectic day. That just left me alone with my thoughts, and they were racing a hundred miles a minute as I went over our conversation again and again. Should I go or should I stay? Should I trust him or should I be wary? The questions clouded my mind until I fell into a fitful slumber.

I awoke knowing what I was going to do.

"Sleep well?" Misty asked me as she buttered her toast.

"No." As per usual around her, the truth slipped out without me meaning it to.

"Why not?" she asked, frowning and pausing mid-spread.

"Just… you know. Thinking about stuff." That was true at least, if 'stuff' was Evan.

Misty seemed to interpret my thoughts anyway. "I understand." she said sympathetically. "I can't believe that Evan boy turned out to be so… _horrible_."

Angel nodded. "I know right. He was always one of my favourite actors, so yummy and brooding. Did you see him in _Dead Man_?" She held up a finger gun, and lowered her voice dramatically. " _My name's Drew Roberts, and if you don't release her, you've got another thing coming_." She began mimicking the actions of a gun until Misty tugged on her arm, glancing at me.

"Stop that Angel. You can see Paige's still a little shaken up."

"Oh." Angel looked sheepish, lowering her handgun. "Sorry Paige."

"It's okay." I replied, desperately searching for a new topic. My throat felt dry. _Bingo_. "So, what are you all doing today?"

Sky smiled. "Zed and I are going to head over to Richmond to see my old house. I'm hoping to bump into a couple of old friends. Well," she amended, "The ones who haven't left for uni."

"Ooh, that sounds fun." Angel replied, taking a bite of her marmite on toast; I was glad I'd stuck to my cereal. "I think Marcus and I might go to a music fair in Westminster. Misty, Paige, wanna come?"

Misty nodded enthusiastically. "Cool. Alex loves concerts, don't you?"

Her soulfinder nodded. "Yeah, that sounds cool."

Angel turned to me expectantly. "Paige?"

I glanced at my phone, which was clutched tightly under the table, and swallowed. "Urgh, I think I'll pass, thanks guys."

"Oh." There was an awkward pause. Misty looked at me, her brow furrowed. "You don't like music?"

"No- no! That's not it." I spluttered, desperately looking for an excuse. "I just... I think I'm gonna take a walk, get some air." I said, lamely.

Her expression cleared, filled with sympathy once more, and I felt a twinge of guilt. "I understand. It must have been horrible for you yesterday. Take all the time alone you need. We're all here for you." She gestured around the table and the others nodded, making me feel even worse. Across from me I noticed Sky frown- probably sensing my guilty emotions- and I inwardly grimaced. It was near impossible hiding things in a room full of savants, and I knew I had to get out of there.

"Thanks Misty. I think I'll just grab my jacket and head out then. Thanks so much for having me, Angel."

"Anytime." she grinned. "Be sure to come and hang out with us again, Paige. It was nice seeing you."

"You too. See you all." I noticed Zed's suspicious gaze, watching me across the table, and grabbed my bag and jacket, hurrying out of the door.

I got the tube from Southgate to King's cross, transferring at King's. This morning I was wearing one of Angel's less daring tops- a grey t-shirt that said "sparkle away your fears", my jeans and my military jacket. My hair had been plaited by Sky the night before, so for once the brown strands had a little wave to them. I took the tube to the Barbican, which didn't take very long. It was a nice day out, and as I departed the grisly tube station the sun was shining, filling me with warmth. The walk to The Charterhouse wasn't far, but, being the clutter brain I was, I had to stop and ask for directions twice, adding an extra five minutes to my journey. the roads weren't overly busy, however, since it was a Sunday, and only a few couples strolled by on the pavements, browsing the highstreet shops.

Eventually, I turned down the little cobbled road that led to The Charterhouse. There were a few parked cars there, but aside from that only greenery lined the path. A big green park extended to my left, stretching up to the entrance of the little Charterhouse museum. It was a beautiful building, nestled in a grove of trees, and made of old stones with vines creeping up the side. It had once been an old almshouse, and I only knew about it through my Mum and her sister, Auntie Lisa, who visited the place often. She was a freelance writer and came here to write in the summer.

As I neared the entrance to the building, fear kicked up in my stomach. I knew it was a very real possibility that this could be a trap, but for some reason my feet had a mind of their own; I was curious as to what Evan had to say to me, and why a godly creature like him would care about a mere mortal like me and her feelings; I was determined to find out.

The museum opened out onto a little courtyard with a square of grass and blossom trees planted around. The path was still cobbled, but it was neater here, more well cared for, and my heart was hammering in my chest, nerves writhing in my stomach at the thought of seeing the famous Evan Winters again; I knew all the girls in my year would be thrilled to be in my position, but I just felt anxious. I stood at the corner of the grass, clutching my satchel bag to me tightly. Where was he?

Just as I was about to go in search of him around the museum, a voice appeared behind me.

"You're late."


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry it's so late, and thanks to the anon who helped me sort the technical problem:)_

I jumped and whirled around, glaring at him. "Do you always have to do that?" I demanded, shifting my bag uncomfortably. He looked just as handsome as I remembered in a long-sleeved grey top and blue jeans, his dark hair tucked behind his ears and grey eyes sparkling in the sunlight; my throat went dry at the sight of him. He smirked, and butterflies exploded in my stomach.

"Do what?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I scowled. "Come up behind me and-" seeing the amusement twinkle in his eyes, I cut off abruptly. "You're messing with me, aren't you?"

He laughed. It was a startlingly pleasant sound, filled with warmth, and I had to wonder where the hell his evil twin had gone- the original Evan I had crossed paths with seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. "I'm an actor, Paige. We're known to be untrustworthy." He winked at me, but his joke had reminded me of the uneasiness I'd felt earlier.

"Speaking of which, you haven't bought anyone, have you?" I glanced behind him. "No creepy security guards are going to pop their heads round a corner, right?"

He laughed again, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Nope. That I can promise. Just me."

Hmm, I would never describe Evan as 'just' anything, but let the comment slide. "Good." Feeling reassured, I decided to jump to the chase; better to get the awkward stuff out the way first. "So, why are we here, Evan?"

He shrugged, his eyes not revealing a thing. "I'm not sure, really. Something intrigued me about you. Not to mention I wanted to make it up to you for acting like a complete jerk."

Well, he'd got that bit right. "By offering me a 'day with the famous Evan Winters'?" I asked, grumpily, folding my arms across my chest. "Because I can assure you that won't work. I'm not too fond of celebrities."

He grinned. "Trust me, I can tell. And no… I was hoping this was more of a 'day with a normal guy who's really sorry for treating you like crap' kinda thing."

I looked at him cautiously, taking in his genuine expression. I had to admit today he _was_ a bit easier to read- his facial expressions were more relaxed and open, though reading what he was feeling beyond the obvious was near enough impossible; his emotions were still blocked from me. "That sounds nice." I admitted.

He looked pleased. "Good. So, where d'you want to go?" He glanced around, and I felt a knot twist in my stomach. What was I thinking, bringing Evan Winters to the most boringest place on the planet?

"I'm not sure." I admitted. "Do we need to go somewhere quiet? So you won't get recognised?"

"That's okay. This place is quiet enough that we won't get noticed- no one expects Evan Winters to come strolling around here of all places. Besides," He cracked a grin. "I doubt any of these have a clue who I am." He was right- it was mainly older couples who were ambling around the courtyard, reading plaques on the wall.

"Okay, cool. So… do you want to look around the museum first?"

He held out an arm. "Lead the way."

I'd walked around the Charterhouse museum countless times, drearily examining the exhibits, but with Evan it was a completely different experience. Where my mum and Auntie had silently read through the detailed notes on each information slab, Evan looked intently at the different artifacts on display and pointed out things I'd never even thought about before. I began to notice details that were really cool- the intricate designs on the tomb of the founder of the house, and the way some of the paintings had been created just to show off his best side. Evan told me about the school the founder had created, and I don't know if it was the way he told it, his eyes lighting up with interest, but his version was much more invigorating than the information we'd been given- not to mention, he somehow managed to explain it without seeming arrogant. Must be a Hollywood thing.

"How do you know all this?" I asked eventually, as he finished talking about the days the building had been set up as a monastery.

He was busy looking at a painting of Thomas Sutton. "I looked it up before I came." he stated. "Sutton was an interesting guy."

I raised my eyebrows but declined to comment. It appeared Evan Winters was far more geeky than he'd first appeared. The image of the shallow guy I'd created in my head was almost completely destroyed.

"I'm sure he is."

"No, really." He turned to look at me, his eyes shining with interest. "He did so many things in his life- setting up a school was just the beginning. It makes you wish you could do more."

"More?" I spluttered as we walked to the next exhibit. "You're Evan bloody Winters! What 'more' could you possibly want?"

He frowned. "Just because I'm famous doesn't mean the world is my oyster, Paige. I don't have everything I want at my fingertips."

I scoffed. "Oh, really?"

"Yes." He turned to me, annoyed. "Everyone pictures actors and stars as conceited, spoilt brats. We're not. Well... I'm not. There's other stuff I want from life besides just being in a big screen."

"Like what? What else could you _possibly_ want when you can travel anywhere you want to, buy anything you could imagine, practically do anything you've ever dreamed of?"

He clenched his jaw. "Because I can't. Yes, I can fly on planes and buy expensive watches, but what about freedom? My Dad has bodyguards watching my almost every move, and I can barely leave my house without the paps following me, making me a prisoner in my own home. And love? What about meeting someone that actually likes me for me, and not for some stupid image, or starting a family? The press attacks every relationship I have like they're rabid dogs fighting over a bone. Even being picked for jobs is hard. How do I know I'm not just being asked to do movies based on my public image rather than my actual talent?" He shook his head. "Life isn't perfect for me, Paige. Far from it."

He really believed what he was saying- I'd give him that- but I just didn't get it. "I'm sorry Evan, but I still can't feel sorry for you. You still have... everything. I've wanted to travel the world ever since I can remember, and the furthest I ever got to that was a weekend away in Wales. And maybe your security detail feels like a pain in the backside, but at least you know you're safe. I can't do half the things I want to because my Dad's so paranoid about my safety- I end up sneaking around which leaves me feeling just as guilty."

"You sneak out?" He looked mildly surprised, his irritation forgotten.

"I've had my moments." I said, and, seeing his expression, folded my arms across my chest. "What?" I demanded.

"Nothing." He was smirking.

"What, Evan?"

He grinned. "I don't know. It's just…" He grinned wider.

"Spit it out, movie star."

"I just can't imagine you sneaking out."

I scowled. "Why not?"

He shrugged, searching for a word. "You seem too… good."

The word left a sour taste in my mouth. " _Good_?" I was far from good. I was reckless, badass.

"Yeah, you know. The 'miss perfect know-all' type."

My eyes narrowed dangerously. "What did you just call me?"

"You've got to admit you're opinionated."

"And you aren't?" God, this guy was infuriating. Somehow, he seemed to rub me up the wrong way every time a word spilled out of that picture-perfect mouth of his.

He smirked. "Touche."

I opened my mouth and then closed it again. I felt irritated, all riled up and yet there was no response I could think of. Who in their right mind insulted someone and then just let it drop, smirking infuriatingly all the while? _Evan bloody Winters_ , I thought, sourly. He was driving me round the bend.

There was a pause as we walked on, peering at the next painting.

"You know," I said, finally. "This doesn't feel like much of an apologetic experience."

"It doesn't?" he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching. "What makes you think that?"

"Your attitude, for one."

"None of this would have happened if we'd gone to Arnaldo's." he reminded me.

I crinkled my nose. "I'm not one of you, Evan. That's pretty obvious. We're from different worlds. My idea of a lunch out is a sausage and chips from the local chippie, not some fancy five star brunch at a top restaurant."

He looked at me for a second before glancing back at the painting and clearing his throat. "Point taken."

Eventually, we left the museum and headed out into the town. It was a pretty simple place, with a few high street stores and restaurants lining the road.

"I forgot to tell you I like your top." Evan stated, examining the glittering quote with a smirk. "'Sparkle away your fears'. Very interesting."

I laughed. "It's not mine, though I have to say it's growing on me. It belongs to my friend Angel. I don't think you've met her."

"No. Well, she certainly has an interesting fashion taste."

"She does."

The conversation was pleasant enough, but I still felt as if the awkwardness was spreading between us, keeping us arms-length apart. It seemed what had happened at Evan's house couldn't truly be forgotten until we talked about it.

"Evan…" I started.

But his attention had been captured by a display outside a little tourist shop on the highstreet. "Woah. Look at this." he said, picking up the postcard and examining the picture of London on the back. "That's cool."

I frowned. "You've never seen a post card?"

"Well, yeah of course." He ran a hand through his hair as I raised my eyebrows. I might not have been able to read his mind, but I had pretty good instincts when someone was lying. Evan put the card back and pushed open the shop door. "Come on. Let's look inside."

It was a cramped shop, with little ornaments stacked on the shelves and dream-catchers hanging from the ceiling. Everywhere I looked there were pictures of London and the british flag adorned the walls, decorating almost everything under the roof.

I fiddled with a couple of dolls that someone had been hand-stitched almost perfectly, whilst Evan disappeared somewhere behind a rack of fridge magnets. It reminded me of some of the stuff me and Mum used to make. She'd taught me to sew on her mother's old sewing machine when I was younger, though I hadn't put the hobby into practise for years now; it had felt too strange doing something we'd done together, without her.

"What's that?' Evan appeared behind me, making me jump, and I placed the dolls down swiftly.

"Nothing." I said quickly, noticing the piles of 'Team GB' sweets he was holding in his arms. "What have you got there?"

He smirked, and my stomach flipped a little. "Couldn't help myself. What do you want? Strawberry laces or raspberry bonbons?"

"Strawberry laces, all the way." I replied immediately, grinning. "I'm a sugar nut."

He laughed. "I'd never have guessed."

As we walked down the highstreet, feasting on our sweets, Evan was smiling. It was the happiest I'd seen him so far- even in photos of him at premieres, he always wore the same brooding expression, but now there was a warmth in his eyes. "You know." he said, dodging an elderly lady with a trolley, "My mum's always hated me eating sweets before lunch. In fact, she hates me eating sweets at all."

"Oh, you rebel." I teased, bumping his arm gently. "Where is she now, you're mum?" I'd heard about Sophia Winters, the glamorous movie star, on the news, but Evan hadn't yet mentioned her.

His smile fell. "She's in New York. Filming."

"Oh." I couldn't work out why he looked so bitter about the subject; surely he was used to her being away when filming? "Do you miss her badly?"

He sighed, jaw clenching. As per usual when we met a touchy subject, his eyes had become unreadable and cold. "It's just convenient that she has a project on whenever her and Dad have an argument, or reach a tough spot." He laughed humorlessly. "I don't think she gets the idea that relationships take work."

"I see." I didn't know much about Evan's family, but from what I'd heard I wasn't sure I agreed. If things were so bad that she was running off to New York, maybe they were right to end it. If the relationship needed that much work, surely it wasn't worth it in the end? But it wasn't my place to say that, of course.

He shook his head, as if ridding himself of the negative thoughts, and glanced up at a sign down the street. A slow smirk spread across his features.

"What is it?" I asked, following his gaze.

"You said your idea of lunch as sausage and chips, right?"

"I think I can see where this is going."

"Come on, I've never been to a 'chippie' before." He tugged me inside.

The place was a pretty basic, greasy fish and chip shop, but the smell was divine. "Are you sure about this?" I asked, as we queued up.

"Positive." Evan replied. To my surprise, he looked excited. The eyes of the girl in front of us widened slightly as she spotted Evan, but she said nothing as we decided what to get, and I was thankful. A first fish and chips experience was a sacred one, not to be ruined by squealing fans.

Soon it was our turn to be served. "Two sausages and chips." Evan told the lady proudly.

"Battered sausages." I added.

She nodded without looking up. "That's four fifty."

Evan had insisted on paying, and I'd relented, seeing that stubborn streak in his eyes. "Thanks." I said, grabbing the bags and throwing the girl a smile; she still didn't look up.

We sat down on the old picnic tables outside the restaurant, and Evan handed me my meal. He didn't wrinkle his nose at his own, which I had half expected, and instead dug in, his eyes widening. "Oh my god." he groaned, taking a bite of his frankfurter. "This is divine."

I watched him, holding back a laugh. With the sun shining down on him he looked incredible- his dark hair tucked behind his ears and his lightly tanned skin glowing in the light. "I can't believe you've never done this before." I told him, taking a bite of a chip. I had to admit they were insanely good.

"I can't believe I've missed this. God, I feel deprived."

"I think you were far from deprived, Evan Winters."

He winked, and I couldn't help but smile.

We looked in a few more shops and then headed back up the cobbled street towards the museum for ice cream, our footsteps falling into sync. He was a lot taller than me, so I got the impression he was slowing down for my smaller strides, and I tried to take bigger steps. As we neared the Charterhouse, I looked up at the building as I'd often done when I was younger. "My mum always used to bring me here." I said, feeling wistful. "She used to bring my favourite book and we'd read it on one of the benches."

"What was your favourite book?" he asked, glancing at me.

"Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." I replied, grinning. "I have a theory that it's the root cause of my sweet tooth."

He smiled, then his brow furrowed. "Do you miss her?" he asked, softly.

"Everyday." Then my brow furrowed in confusion. "How did you know she was dead?"

For the first time, he looked sheepish. "Crawford checked you out after… last time. It was all on your file. The accident, and the-"

"You had no right to read that." I snapped, feeling a rush of defensiveness.

I looked away from him, and he took my arm to turn me back around. At least he had the dignity to look guilty. "You're right. I'm sorry, Paige. I didn't mean to pry."

I sighed, my anger deflating as quickly as it had appeared. "No… it's okay. I'm just not used to people… _knowing_ stuff about me." I glanced at him. There it was again; that awkwardness between us. The elephant in the room.

"Well if it's any consolation, there wasn't much to find. Your Dad must have well and truly hidden everything- but we know enough to see you're no threat."

"Oh. Well, thanks, I guess." It didn't really make me feel any better. I still didn't trust his father, or that security guy of his, either.

We headed back through the stone archway to the ice cream van parked in the middle of the patch of grass. "99 cone?" Evan asked.

I smiled. "All the toppings, please."

He handed me mine, careful not to spill any of the dripping sauce. "A peace offering." he announced. "I'm really sorry for everything- saying stupid things and doing even stupider things. I really have had the best time today, Paige. It was the most fun I've had in ages."

At his words, so sincere, my heart hammered hard in my chest, soaring above with the clouds. "Thanks, Evan." I replied, biting back a smile. "Me too."


	6. Chapter 6

_Ayy, it's longer!_

 _Hope you enjoy! Amy x_

Chapter 6

But the moment we turned around to find somewhere to sit, everything was ruined. I spotted them, my heart falling, and grabbed Evan's hand instinctively, causing him to follow my line of sight. His jaw clenched when he noticed Sky and Zed, marching across the grass.

" _Paige_." Zed was furious. "What the hell are you playing at?"

Evan stepped in front of me, his hands up. "Look man, she didn't-"

"And _you_." growled the angry boy, turning on Evan. "I knew it would be you. What the hell do you want with her? You think you can just come lolloping in here after keeping her locked up in your house? I should have-"

"Zed." I interrupted, feeling sick. "Zed, stop."

"No." He turned to me, the anger flashing in his eyes making him look pretty damn frightening. 'We're going home. I'm taking you back to your Dad and explaining what's happened. _Everything_." He grabbed my arm and tried to drag me away.

"No!" I said, imagining of my Dad's face when Zed showed up at my door, hissing and spitting; he would be worried sick if he found out everything that had happened- not to mention mad that I hadn't come straight home. "Zed, _wait_." But he didn't release me, tugging me across the courtyard.

Evan ripped him away from me. "Didn't you hear her?" he growled, "She told you to wait."

Zed dropped my hand like it was hot, his hands curling into fists, and squared up to Evan, the muscle in his jaw clenching. "You're the one who started this mess." he ground out. "I'm just trying to keep her safe."

"She wants to stay here." Evan replied, his eyes burning a fiery grey. "Don't you, Paige?"

Both boys turned to me, and I swallowed, overwhelmed by the level of testosterone in the air.

"Paige?" Zed asked, tugging his gaze to me, his expression filled with expectation.

"I…" My throat felt dry, my head suddenly spinning with confusion. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, before finally turning and looking Zed in the eyes with a fiery determination. "I want to stay here."

There was a painful pause.

" _Fine_." Zed snarled, throwing me a final glare before storming away across the grass. Dread filled my stomach, and Sky looked at me sadly.

"He'll cool off." she promised, glancing at Evan worriedly, but from the look on her face, I wasn't so sure. "Just… be careful. I'll see you soon, Paige."

She scuttled off after him and we were once again left alone.

A heavy silence ensued.

"Evan…"

"Don't." he snapped, his eyes losing their fire. He refused to look at me. "This doesn't mean I'm fine with you, too. I can't believe you told them to come."

"But I didn't-"

He glared at me. "I don't want to hear it, Paige. I…" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I trusted you. I thought you were different, but I-" He shook his head as if shaking away his thoughts. "Obviously I was wrong."

I felt like someone had punched a hole in my stomach as he turned away from me. "Evan, wait…"

"Leave it. We're done, Paige." He stalked off the same way Zed had left, leaving me standing alone on the grass.

 _We're done_. His words rang in my ears. Finished before it had even begun.

I lingered around the courtyard for a little longer, half-hoping someone would come back to find me, but knowing that was highly unlikely. How was it that I'd managed to screw up so many relationships in one day? A record, I was sure. Sighing, eventually I picked up my bag from the bench I'd been sitting on and headed out of The Charterhouse.

The sun had gone in, and the walk back through the streets felt long and lonely. I got the tube back from Barbican to Northwood station, which was close to where I lived, but the journey took a good hour so it was late afternoon by the time I arrived. Plus, since my house was a fifteen minute drive from the station, I had to ring Dad for a lift; I could immediately tell something was wrong- his tone was clipped and short on the phone- and I braced myself for his wrath.

Dad hated me taking the tube alone, so I gave him instructions to pick me up from the petrol garage down the road, and, fifteen minutes later, his battered old porsche pulled up; even though I knew he was angry, I'd never felt more relieved to see a car in my life.

"Sorry about this." I said as I got in. "My friend had to rush off, and she could only drop me here."

He just looked at me. "Enough with the lies, Paige." he said quietly. "Your friend Zed called. He said you'd probably need a lift since 'Evan' had abandoned you. Why the hell were you with that Winters boy? What's going on Paige? I want the truth this time."

He wasn't fuming like I'd thought he'd be- just tired and disappointed, and that was much worse. To rub salt in the wound, I could sense his emotions throbbing like a oozing gash, could feel the worry I'd caused him.

I swallowed. My thoughts were scrambling all over the place- and the strength of Dad's emotions weren't helping me to think. I stared out of the window, trying to block out his impatience bubbling beside me, as I decided what to do. Could I tell Dad everything, or would that just make matters worse? I thought back to the bad days- when Mum had just gone and the house had stunk of whiskey and beer and grief. I couldn't bare it if he felt like that again, if _I_ felt like that again. I had vowed since then to protect him at all costs.

And I would stick to that promise.

"Dad, it was honestly nothing." I lied. "My friend, Angel, lost a close family member, and she called me. I had to go and stay with her, but I… sort of ran out on Evan at the house, and so he wanted to speak to me. That's why I was with him."

"Why would that actor boy want to speak with you?"

I knew from the puzzlement in his voice the words weren't meant to be unkind, but still they stung. I'd asked myself the exact same question. "I don't know. But… we didn't exactly leave each other on good terms."

Dad raised his eyebrows. "You argued?"

"Yeah. He was a complete arse." At least that was the truth- I was completely fed up of that boy once and for all.

Dad sighed. "Paige, I still don't feel happy about this. You haven't been completely honest with me, that much I can tell. You got the tube on your own-" he silenced my protest with one look. "-don't look at me like that, I'm not an idiot. You didn't tell me anything that was going on, and I was out of my mind with worry."

I looked down. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry's not going to cut it, I'm afraid. Your behaviour has shown me that maybe you're not ready to handle things the world throws at you- and that includes both savant and normal worlds."

My heart leapt into my throat. "What do you mean?"

He clutched the steering wheel, even though the car was stationary, and the tension in his body was evident. "I want you staying out of any savant activities."

"But…" I tried to grasp what he was saying. "The savant camp? Angel and Misty, and Summer…?"

He shook his head. "I can't let you go, I'm afraid. I'm sorry, Paige."

"But…" I could feel frustration rising in my chest. "You can't just change your mind Dad! I've been looking forward to this for years!"

"I certainly can change my mind." he replied, sternly, finally looking me in the eye. "Let's not forget who's in the wrong Paige. You have lied to me, sent me on a wild goose chase of worry, and gone running around with God-knows-who for the last two days. This is as much a punishment as it feels like."

"You can't be serious."

"I am. And you'll be grounded for the next month, too. You can't get away with acting up like this." His mouth was set in a grim line and I knew there was no point arguing. I wanted to spit back that if he hadn't forced me to come to his stupid interview in the first place, none of this would have happened, but I bit my tongue. Just because I was mad at my father didn't mean I had to add to the guilt I could tell he was already feeling at having to punish me.

We drove home in an icy silence.

I got home and went straight up to my room, determined to give my dad the silent treatment. How could he just refuse to let me go to the camp? I was seventeen, and I'd hardly acted out that badly. I sighed, flinging myself on the bed, and part of me had to wonder if this was all just an excuse because he didn't want me to go.

At half six Dad came to my door asking if I wanted noodles for dinner, obviously feeling bad, but I ignored him until he went away; if a hunger strike was what needed to get my point across, then I would do it. Max came padding into my room and flopped on my bed, resting his head on my knee whilst I finished some of my Geography coursework. His sad brown eyes stared up at me as I typed; Max always had been able to tell when Dad and I were fighting, but his empathy was short-lived and eventually he dozed off. I tried to ignore the gurgling of my tummy, but an hour later I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Sorry Max." I muttered, gently moving his head from my leg and placing it back on the duvet. He whined and buried his head in his paw as I tiptoed out of the room, heading downstairs. Dad was watching football in the living room, so I snuck over to the fridge and eyed it's lacking interior with disdain, until another idea came to me. Grabbing the box of strawberries, I plucked the big jar of Nutella out of the cupboard and headed to my room, feeling accomplished.

Max perked up completely when he spotted the Nutella, but I kept it out of his reach, very aware of the heart attack I'd had when he'd licked a bowl of chocolate mousse I'd had the year previously. I put on Beauty and The Beast and dug in; the strawberry and Nutella was divine- the perfect pick-me-up after a bad day- and I soon forgot all about that unmentionable boy and my father.

The next day, Dad was gone before I woke up- which wasn't hard considering I usually slept through most of my alarms- and I was glad. I wasn't in the mood to go about discussing our issues, which I hoped he wasn't planning on doing when he got home from work, but I knew from past experiences that he wouldn't get home until late tonight, anyway. After a big interview, he normally spent the next couple of days working on his article and compiling his notes together, and I could only hope I hadn't wrecked them for him too much.

I took the bus to the local sixth form where I studied, and met my friend Pippa in the cafe. With red-brown hair braided into two plaits, blue eyes framed with glasses, and a small, freckled face, she was a sweet girl and a good friend.

"Hey, Pippa." I said, taking a seat next to her. Today she wore an oversized check shirt and black jeans with a rip in the knee as she worked busily on her laptop.

"Oh," she drew her gaze away from the screen and towards me, her eyes warm. "Hey Paige. Good weekend?"

"Hmm." It was far from good. "Eventful."

Her eyebrows quirked. "Eventful? How so?"

I decided against telling her about my Dad's interview- it was meant to be a secret, after all, and I'd already told Misty and the others. "Just arguing with my Dad, you know the drill."

She grimaced. "Aw, I'm sorry. Do you reckon you'll sort it out?"

"Hopefully." If I ever stopped being annoyed at him. "I just feel like-"

"Yo." I jumped as two hands clamped down on my shoulders, and turned to face a grinning Will, my eyebrows raised.

"You know I hate surprises." I told him, attempting to sound irritated.

He only grinned wider. "And that's why I like to surprise you." he replied, plopping into the seat next to mine with a lazy flop. Will was good-looking with honey-coloured hair, lightly tanned skin, warm brown eyes and a soft personality to match; he and Pippa had been my closest friends since moving to London, though Pippa was more the steady bestfriend type. Will came and went as he pleased.

I huffed but said no more as he pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his bag. He smoothed it out and lay it on the table in front of me and Pippa. "Check this out." he announced. "The school's running a trip for Year Twelve."

He'd obviously just grabbed the letter from reception since it was typed out in the school's signature font. "'Weekend trip to Paris'." I read, scanning it. Visits to the Eiffel Tower, The Louvre _and_ The Luxembourg Garden. "That sounds awesome." I admitted; I'd always dreamed of visiting Paris, and the traveller inside me was doing squealing cartwheels in my stomach.

"That's what I thought." Will replied, beaming. He knew I wanted to travel. "I reckon we should all go, watcha think?"

I hesitated, realistic Paige squashing excited Paige in an instant. "I'll have to check with my Dad." I told them. And it wasn't hard working out how that conversation was going to go- something involving a firm two letter word.

"He's gotta let you go." Will replied, frowning. "It's a really good price and you've wanted to go abroad forever. Plus, you can say it's 'educational'." From his grin, I knew it would be anything but that, but a little bit of hope sparked in my stomach.

"You think so?"

"I know so." But his confidence only made me more anxious.

I turned to Pippa, who was bent over the paper, her glasses slipping down her nose. "Pippa? What do you think?"

"Sounds good." She was reading the letter intently. "I reckon my parents will be cool with it, especially since I'm studying French. Ooh, and we get to see Montmartre. That place is filled with history. There's such an in-depth background to it all leading back to the-" She glanced up to see Will and I hiding our smiles. "And you're laughing at me." she stated earnestly.

Will chuckled, scratching his head. "No, we were just…. Okay, we were, but I have to admit, Brown, you're pretty funny."

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "I know I am, Skenazi. _Now_ ," she returned to the letter. "The question is… who's running it? Because if it's Mr Bradshaw, I can guarantee you I _won't_ be going..."

The next couple of days passed quickly- then the next week, the next two weeks, and soon it was November. On the first Monday of the month, I had double Psychology with Will and an Art class that I scrambled to before heading to Geography with Pippa after lunch. Monday's were always my busiest days, and it was a relief when the bell finally rang for us to go.

I said goodbye to my friends and put in my earphones as I sat on the bus home, listening to The Merrymen all the way to my front door. Dad, as predicted, wasn't back, so I buttered some toast and chewed on it as I made my way upstairs. Him and I were still on awkward terms, surprisingly, though at least we were speaking now. It'd had never been like this for so long, and I knew I must have really pissed him off when I left the Winters'. I was awful at holding grudges, but my Dad, well…. not so much. If only he knew the real reason I'd left, he might have been more forgiving.

But, I'd pledged not to tell him, and I would stick to that.

Max had already been walked once in the morning by Mrs Raji- a lady on our street who provided a dog walking service- but I reminded myself that I'd have to walk him again before dinner, and headed upstairs to draw.

I was far from the best at drawing in my art class, but I managed to scrape B's and A's thanks to what the art teacher called 'my artistic flair'. She firmly believed that I had my own style, but I didn't really see it. I'd always preferred photography, and had persuaded my Dad to get me my first camera when I turned eleven, but the sixth form here in London didn't offer a photography course so I'd chosen to do art instead, using photography as my main medium. The downside, however, was I still had to draw.

I opened up my sketchbook with a sigh and began to start the tonal on the piece I was working on- it was a sketch of a photograph I'd taken of Will. Paige had been too shy for the photoshoot, so I'd had to ask the more confident friend of mine, who of _course_ was over the moon to be asked. In the photo, Will was sat on a stationary swing in the evening time. His body was cast in shadow apart from the glint of his eye, which twinkled at the camera. It looked fancy enough, but the people who saw it didn't see what I saw- fifty minutes in the freezing park at night trying to get the best angle as Will moaned nonstop like a child.

Time always seemed to float by whilst I drew, and eventually it was time to take Max on his walk. I wrapped myself in Dad's parka coat, a wooly hat and gloves- it was freezing in September- and traipsed outside into the crisp wind.

Max bounded along happily, dragging me with him, and I soon realised I was wearing _way_ too many layers. I looked like a green puffy christmas tree, with a red bobble hat to match, and I was positively boiling in my clothes; the night, however, was a gift to look at. It was just getting dark and the sky was a dusky grey, with stars beginning to wink here and there and the shadowy houses standing in neat little rows against the backdrop of the sky. I'd always preferred the nighttime- when owls hooted, and the streets were completely silent. Back in my old house, in Bristol, I'd been able to climb up to the roof from my bedroom window, and some nights I'd lie there, stargazing. I loved how the world seemed to come to a standstill, streetlamps lighting the pavement, shadows dancing down alleyways- not that it was that quiet now, though. Cars were still driving on the road at this time, and some shops even had their open signs hanging from the windows. I took Max down the street, let him run around and do a wee on the little patch of grass they called a park, and then led him home to find Dad's car parked on the driveway.

My hopes to sneakily avoid him were ruined when he stood in the hallway.

"Paige." he said, glancing at my attire. I could tell he wanted to laugh, but he held the steel in his gaze, and for that I was proud of him. It was a better job than I could do.

"Dad." I let Max off his lead and hung it on a coathanger.

There was an awkward pause.

"I made dinner." he said, finally. "Come and eat."

I relented, knowing he'd nag me if I didn't.

Dad had made spaghetti carbonara- my favorite- and I almost melted at the smell of it; it was the one meal that never failed to put a smile on my face, especially Dad's version, and behind his back I narrowed my eyes at him, knowing he wasn't playing fair. You know what they said- food was the way to a girl's heart.

The table was set out and I sat down at my usual spot, my stomach gurgling loudly as he placed the gooey pasta in front of me. As I'd predicted, it tasted divine, and I dug in, Dad watching with amusement as I inhaled my meal.

"You enjoyed it, I'm guessing?" he asked, smiling.

"Yes. Thanks." I replied, wiping my mouth on a napkin.

"Now, Paige." Hie eyes turned sombre as he picked up my plate and stuck it in the dishwasher. "I know things have been rather… strained between us, and I wanted you to know I'm sorry for the way I've been acting."

I swallowed. That was unexpected. So the carbonara had been an apology, not a strategy. "Thanks Dad." I said softy. "I'm sorry too. You know I hate fighting."

He nodded. "Me too. Do you think we can put this all behind us?"

"Sure." I smiled and took his hand across the table, instilling him with some of my mental healing energy as I'd always done. Suddenly, a thought came to me. "Does this mean I can go to savant camp?" I asked, hopefully.

He laughed, pulling his hand away and twirling carbonara around his fork with expertise. "I'll see."

His response was surprising- I'd been expecting a no- and my heart warmed slightly. He was putting in effort, and I could at least try as well.

"How's work?" I asked cheerily, changing the subject.

He nodded over his mouthful of spaghetti. "Good, yes. I just finished the article on the terrorist attacks in Mexico, and we got great feedback from last week about the baby dolphins."

"Cool." I picked up my plates and began to scrape the remnants into the bin. "I loved that one."

"So did everyone else it seems. Oh, there was something I'd been meaning to talk to you about." He took a sip of water. "It's about Henry Winters."

My stomach clenched, thoughts of Evan filling my mind. I hadn't seen or heard from him since the day we'd spent together, and though I tried not to admit it, I was disappointed. "Oh?"

"Yes, his PA got into contact with me. He said, since we got interrupted, Henry would be happy to do a follow up interview with me."

My blood ran cold. " _What_?" I squeaked.

He barreled on and my heart was thundering in my chest, blood rushing in my ears. "I know, I know. It's pretty exciting since he's never been known to do something like this before. But I was thinking we-"

"Did you agree? What did you say?" I asked.

He stared at me, placing down his fork and spoon. "Well, yes of course. I'd be mad not to. But here's the thing…" He cleared his throat. "I told him that you would come with me to apologise about how you acted."

"You _what_?"

He frowned at my reaction. "Don't be like that, Paige. It's the least you could do, really. And guess what Mr Winters said? He said that wouldn't be necessary, but he'd love to meet you."

"Me?" I felt sick.

"Yep. It's marvellous, isn't it? He's such a pleasant man. The nicest celebrity I think I've ever encountered. Usually they're so cold about the press-celebrity barrier, but I s'pose they have to be, really. Some of our lot give the rest of us such bad names... It's very nice of Henry, though."

"Yeah." I said weakly. "Great."

He frowned. "You look a bit peaky dear. Are you okay?"

"I'm great. It's just the… excitement." My mind was racing a million times a minute. What was I going to do? I couldn't go back into that house of savants, but I couldn't tell Dad the reason why. I couldn't ask Zed for help after how I'd treated him, but I couldn't bail on Dad again.

I was utterly and completely screwed.

Dad told me we'd be going to visit the Winters on Friday after school, and it felt like events were unfurling all over again and I was powerless to stop them. I excused myself to my room early and lay in bed, mulling things over until my head hurt.

Eventually I came to one conclusion: I would have to go into the lion's den, but this time I would be prepared. I wouldn't let my Dad out of my sight, and be ready to make a run for it at all time. I would have Zed on speed dial just in case worse did come to worse, but I'd be ready for Henry Winters.

Though I was clueless when it came to his son.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven_

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of Joss Stirling's works.**

 _Sorry it's been so long! This one's for Froom;)_

"You don't have to be nervous." Dad told me on Friday, as we sped along the motorway. He'd opted for a different suit this time- so the meeting didn't quite feel like a replica of events- but still I felt sick at the thought of returning to that house, and I couldn't feel like this was all some kind of sick joke; fate's way of messing with us.

This time, it wasn't Daniel who met us at the door, but Henry Winters himself, with his sleek black hair, so similar to Evan's; a dark, handsome beard and twinkling eyes. I could tell that even Dad was a little taken aback to see him standing in front of us, looking intimidatingly powerful in a designer suit, but he quickly brushed off his surprise and shook Henry's offered hand with a newfound vigor. "A pleasure to see you again, Mr Winters."

He smiled. "Oh, please, Michael, call me Henry. We've known each other far too long for those formalities."

Dad nodded seriously, but I could tell from the sparkle in his eyes that he was pleased, and my gut twisted. What if this was all a clever trap? I knew now that Evan knew me no harm, but I still didn't trust his psycho family.

Henry turned his gaze to me; I couldn't read the look in his eyes, but something about him made me feel as if he could see right through me- sort of how his son made me feel.

"And you must be Paige." he stated, expression unreadable. "Come on in."

Dad gave me a little push and we followed Henry into his home. This time, I stayed close to Dad's side, and no one tried to separate us as we were led  
through the glamorous maze of corridors to a living area. Once again, I was in left speechless by the beauty of the place; the room was stunning- sweeping windows; plush, cream carpets, and carefully placed furniture that boasted expensive-looking china and vases of plants.

"It's beautiful." I muttered, taking it all in.

Henry smiled at my response, heading over to his drinks cabinet. Like Evan, his mind was a block to me, and I couldn't read what he was thinking- unsurprising, considering he was a shield. "I'm glad you think so." he replied. "My wife spent a lot of time planning the room with our interior designer." He turned to my father, holding up a glass. "Drink, Michael?"

"Just a tea for me." he replied, with a slightly strained smile.

I felt a little rush of relief- I knew how Dad got when he touched the drink; I'd only weaned him of the habit a couple of years previously after countless bad experiences.

"Paige, the kids should be just through that door." Henry said, nodding to me as he poured the drinks.

I could read people well enough to know that was my dismissal. My throat went dry, and I glanced helplessly at Dad, but got no help there. He just smiled.

"I'll be right here, poppet. They won't bite."

Henry quickly caught on, thinking I didn't want to see his children. That was only half of the problem. "Don't be intimidated, Paige. They're good kids." He turned back to my father. "You know, Michael, I was talking the other day to a friend of mine in-"

And he they continued on without me, deep in conversation once again.

I was reluctant to leave Dad, but I knew I had no choice. Now I had to face up to the other issue that had been playing on my mind. A certain moody actor. _Come on, Paige_ , I thought. _Don't wimp out. You can do this._

I took a deep breath. I _could_ do this. Maybe Evan hated me, but I would act as the bigger person. Slowly, I headed towards the door, trying to instill some strength in myself. _He might not even be there_ , I reasoned. _He's probably out at some fancy event._

Cautiously, I opened the door-

And the room was empty.

Few. I felt a strange mingling sense of relief and disappointment, but brushed it off. I glanced around. This room had similar furniture to the living room, though the walls were painted a dusky blue colour, and the carpet was even softer, my feet sinking into them. A grand piano was situated in the corner, and besides me was a little seating area, and cabinets with photos on them. I didn't understand why someone would want to sit out here when there was a living room with a huge plasma screen just next door, but I figured this was how the rich lived. Countless rooms for no particular reason. Well, it was peaceful anyway.

I headed over to the bookcase in the corner, prepared to judge their collection, when the door suddenly burst open.

I turned, heart pounding, and come face to face with a beautiful blonde.

I scrambled desperately to place who she was before it clicked into place. Veronica Winters was much paler than her brother, with creamy, angelic skin and pale gold hair that fell sleekly down her back. She was tall too, with long legs accentuated by her heels, and a confident, poised posture that I would never be able to mimic. Safe to say, she was more intimidating than her father.

I swallowed.

"Who are you?" she asked sharply, eyebrows raised haughtily as her gaze burnt into mine. I couldn't blame her- with my scruffy clothes and hastily-brushed hair, I looked like a dumpy mess compared to her. Normally, I might've been offended by her tone, but Veronica was so intimidating, I could do nothing but blush.

"I'm Paige Miller." I explained, when I found my voice.

"Who?"

"Er, my Dad's Michael Miller. He's-"

"Ah. The reporter's daughter." She flickered her gaze up and down,filled with distaste. "Daniel said you would be visiting again."

I blushed, remembering the events of last time. "Yep. He's interviewing your dad for-"

She waved her hand dismissively. "I don't particularly care. I'm looking for a diamond necklace. Have you seen it?" She glanced at me, obviously taking back that question. "No, I doubt you have. I don't suppose your sort would even know a Balmain from a Lagerfield."

I bristled; I had no clue what she was on about, but I didn't like her tone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She smirked. "Sweetie, look at yourself. I don't know what you think you're doing in my house, but I can assure you that you're not welcome here. I heard about your little outing with my brother, and I can assure you he's not interested in your sort. Maybe you should go and find someone in your own league, because trust me." She raked her eyes along my outfit. "You're not even close."

With that, she swung on her heel and shut the door behind her with a snap, leaving me feeling about an inch high.

Finally, I was alone. Defeated, I sat down on the sofa and closed my eyes. For some reason, I felt tired and stupid; this house didn't feel frightening to me anymore, the people pretty normal, and I wondered if I'd overreacted before. I remembered how I'd put Zed's number on my speed dial so I could call it right away and turned my phone off. I had been jumping to conclusions, as per usual.

And then the door burst open once more. I jumped up from the sofa, expecting to see Veronica, and came face-to-face with the tall, handsome boy who appeared to be the cause of all my problems. Shock flitted across his face as I stared at him, my heart stuttering to a stop.

There was a thick silence. My throat felt dry.

"Evan?" I croaked, once I'd finally found my voice.

The surprise on his face was quickly replaced with that cool unreadable steel; his gaze was like ice- it seared my skin with it's frostiness. "I heard you were visiting." he said coldly. "I'm apologise. I didn't realise this room was occupied."

He made to leave and my heart jumped. I didn't want it to end like this. "Wait." I stammered.

He sighed, turning to face me, one eyebrow raised questioningly. I couldn't stand that stormy expression on his face.

I closed my eyes, trying to think of what to say.

"Look, Evan… I'm sorry for everything that happened. Really. I didn't mean it to turn out like that - for Zed to react like that. I'm sorry."

His eyes flickered over me, expressionless. "Is that all?"

"Yes- I mean, no." I sighed. "Look, could you just come inside a minute?"

He sighed, obviously deliberating, before, finally, he nodded, shutting the door behind him. He took a seat on the sofa, arms folded across his chest. "Well?"

I sat down, racking my brains for something else to say. "Did I mention I'm sorry?" I asked him, hopelessly. "You know I didn't mean any of this to happen."

"You keep saying that." Evan said, frowning. "So... you didn't call them?" His expression was strangely vulnerable, and my heart clenched.

"I didn't call them." I assured. "I didn't know they'd be there."

He didn't reply.

"Come on, Evan." I pressed. "I forgave you, didn't I?"

He sighed, but his eyes seemed to be losing their frostiness. "Only after I bought you ice cream and pleaded for forgiveness." he reminded me, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I smiled. "I'll buy you ice cream then. Are we okay?"

He sighed, turning serious again. "It's not that, Paige... I figured pretty quickly that you didn't plan on Sky and Zed being there- I mean, why would you? It's just..."

"Yes?"

He glanced at me, before tugging his gaze away. "I can't see you anymore."

"Oh." I'd been expecting that, of course- so why did it feel like a punch to the gut. "Why not?"

"Because... because it wouldn't be good for either of us."

I frowned. "Because you're famous."

He looked troubled. "No, well, yes- but not just that. My Dad- he doesn't like us hanging out with other savants, as much as possible. It just draws more attention to our kind and what we are." His eyes bored into mine. "You get that, don't you?"

"Yeah." I looked away from his probing gaze. "I guess."

"I want to protect you, Paige, from all that stuff- all the limelight. You don't need that. It might all seem like fun and games, being int he public eye, but-"

My temper flared. "Do you really think I'd find that fun?" I asked, my tone holding a hint of sharpness. "Then you don't know me."

"I didn't mean-"

But I was on a role now. "And all that 'protecting' stuff. That's bullshit, Evan. I can look after myself." Where was all this anger coming from? Hadn't I just been the one asking _him_ to forgive _me?_

"You know that I-"

"No." I stood up. I'd heard enough. "I know the real reason for this, Evan. I know why you don't want to hang out with me?"

"Oh yeah?" His expression had become stormy now, the dark clouds beginning to billow into his expression. "And what's that?"

"You're scared."

He guffawed. "Scared? Of what?"

I shrugged, my body tense. "I don't know- scared to show someone you're not just the emotionless cool guy everyone thinks you are. To drop your act. You tell me."

He stood, expression souring. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh _sure._ Because no one understands Evan Winters. Well guess what, I'm not just going to sit here while you talk at me all patronisingly why we can't be friends. Who said I even wanted to be your friend, huh? You can stuff yourself."

I made to storm out, but he surprised my by grabbing my arm, stopping me from leaving.

"No." he said.

I tugged my arm from his grip, scowling. "No, what?"

"We're not doing this again- leaving it like this again. I swear, every time I'm with you you make me mad, and then I just feel like shit afterwards. We're going to sit down and talk about this."

My fury diffused slighty. " _Fine."_ I grumbled, sitting down across the coffee table from him once more.

His next words surprised me even more.

"You're right." he admitted.

"What?"

He took a deep breath. "You're right- what you said. All of it. I was wrong to assume you can't look after yourself, that you don;t know what you're getting yourself into, knowing me. You have just as much to lose as I do. The truth is, I find it hard to trust people I haven't known all my life- to let others in. I have my two best mates and couple of family friends I've known for years. But that's it. And everytime I invite someone new into my life- a girl, a mate, or whatever... it just doesn't end well. So I shut myself off. You're right, Paige. And I'm sorry."

I was speechless. Had Evan Winters really just said that? "So... we can give this a shot?"

He looked up at me and nodded, eyes warm. "We can give this a shot."

Relief filled my chest. We would be okay.

Evan smirked. "Now, may I ask what you're doing in this particular room?" he asked, glancing around. And just like that, the tension was diffused- I had to remember that with Evan; it was better not to leave things unsettled. We were both so fiery, like a spark to gunpowder, that it was easy to fall into a shouting match.

"I was kicked out by the adults." I explained. "Your father told me 'the kids' were in here."

Evan rolled his eyes. "My father's stuck in the past. Veronica and I used to come in here when we were little, but I don't think we've been here together for the past five years."

"She came in a little while ago." I told him. "Looking for a 'diamond necklace'."

He grimaced, eyes flickering over my face. "That's V for you. What did she say?"

I avoided his eye. "Not much, really. She seemed… nice."

He smiled knowingly. "She was horrible wasn't she?"

I met his gaze, relieved that he'd said it before I had to. "Awful." I admitted.

Evan laughed. "Don't let her get to you. She's like that with everyone, I promise. Sometimes she even scares me."

I let out a relieved laugh. "Good."

He watched me carefully. "I am pretty impressed that you came back here… after everything. When Dad told me he'd invited you, I never dreamt that you'd actually turn up."

"Yeah I wasn't so keen either. Dad forced me to come." I winced at how that sounded. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

He dismissed my apology. "Don't worry. I don't blame you. Sometimes I feel like an outsider in this house too."

"Yeah. I can't imagine growing up here. It's so… big."

Amusement flickered through Evan's eyes and he smiled. "That's true."

His gaze bored into my skin so intently that I had to look away.

"Nice collection." I commented weakly, standing up making my way over to the bookshelf.

He followed me. "You read?"

He sounded surprised, and I glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." He held his hands up in surrender, but that smile was back again; I liked seeing him smile, it was so much nicer than his scowl.

I rolled my eyes. "Of course I read. Who doesn't?" Granted, I was more of a movie kind of girl, and the books I read were usually creepy thrillers or cheesy romantics, but everyone _read_ \- whether it was newspapers or cheap, picture-filled magazines.

Evan laughed. "Not Veronica."

I bit back a smile. "Figures."

"So what exactly did she say to you?"

We were back to that again. I shrugged, waving away his quetion. "Oh, this and that."

" _Paige_."

I sighed. "Do you _really_ want to know what your sister said about me?"

"Yes." Hie expression was adamant and once again those distracting eyes grazed my skin.

My cheeks burned as I faced the bookshelf. "Well, apparently I should stay far away with you, because 'my sort' aren't welcome here. Oh, and you're way out of my league."

"Seriously?" I could ehar the frown in his voice. "She said that?"

"Do I need to repeat it?"

"No. But I'll have a word with her. I'm sorry Paige."

I shrugged. "It's fine, I get I'm not quite royalty. Now-" I wanted to change the subject. "Tell me your guilty pleasure."

His eyes widened and I laughed at his expression. "You're guilty _book_ pleasure." I amended, blushing myself.

"Oh." He grinned, running a hand through his hair. "That's easy. Mystery."

"Mystery?"

"Yeah. I'm usually a classics guy myself, but I love a good suspense mystery."

"Like 'Sherlock Holmes'?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, they're okay. I'm more into Christie. Used to read her all the time when I was a child."

I could picture it- aminiature Evan hiding under the covers late at night as he frightened himself with spooky stories- the thought made me smile.

"My Dad loves Poirot." I admitted.

"What about you?" he asked, gaze flickering intently over my face. "What do you like to read?"

"All sorts." I replied vaguely, feeling slightly abashed about my choices in reading material and the intensity of his gaze.

"Like?"

I grinned. "You wouldn't know any of them. Far too obscure for your taste."

"Fair enough." He laughed. "Movies?"

"Hmm." I fiddled with the cord of my hoodie. "I like comedies mostly, some scary films… and the odd Disney, of course."

His eyes lit up at discovering this. "Disney? Really?"

I blushed. "Well, I love animals, and Disney movies just leave you feeling so happy. It was meant to be, don't you think?"

"Well you don't strike me as a Disney fanatic." He shook his head, smiling. "Horror movies and Disney movies. Strange combination."

I squirmed. "It's embarrassing."

He grinned, but his gaze was gentle. "It's not embarrassing. You like them, so what? I like to read Agatha Christie books and I cried at the Titanic. Life goes on."

I raised my eyebrows. "You cried at the Titanic?"

He smirked, eyes flitting over the many elaborate novels perched on the shelf. "I was thirteen, but yes. It's an emotional film."

I bit back a smile- it appeared 'untouchable' Evan Winters wasn't as untouchable as I'd first thought. I followed his gaze "I must admit Leonardo DiCaprio was a dream in it."

"I'll let him know you thought so."

My eyes widened with shock. "You've _met_ …" I was speechless; to me that was unfathomable, but to Evan, I figured Leo was just another colleague on the red carpet. Overcoming my shock, my eyes narrowed. "What else don't I know about you?"

He smirked, eyes sparkling. "Many things, Miss Miller. Many things. Now, let me show you something."

Still shaking my head with awe, I followed him out of the room.


	8. Chapter 8

_Sorry it's taken so long and sorry it's so short! I'm currently in the process of writing other projects and editing earlier chapters too, so if you want tore-read them give it a go! Thanks for all being so patient:)_

Evan led me down a corridor which led to the back of the house, where we came to a huge pair of double glass doors. "Come on." he said, looking the most animated I'd ever seen him.

Puzzled, I followed him through the doors.

The sight I was met with filled me with awe. We were standing in a huge conservatory surrounded by gleaming windows, and filled with all types of exotic plants. The air was thick with the sweet aroma of nature, and I tied my grey hoodie around my waist as he led me deeper inside.

"This is amazing." I admitted, turning around to look at all the plants. I'd never really been one for 'the great outdoors' but I could appreciate the beauty surrounding me. Flowers bursting with colour surrounded the walkway on either side, curling up towards the roof, which soared at least twenty foot high. I couldn't fathom how something so humongous could be connected to the house- but then, I remembered, the Winters' mansion would tower above a normal-sized home. It was more akin to a palace.

"Evan, this is…" Amazing? Terrifying? Unbelievable? "Incredible." I said.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the place- warm sunlight pressed down onto my skin as I took in the abundance of colours- bushes filled with oranges exploded on either side of us; vines crept up the trunks of larger trees, entwining with the branches. "When did you build all this? I asked, amazed.

"My mother built it." Evan explained. "Well, she hired someone to. Until she got fed up, that was."

His expression had hardened, his voice holding a tinge of bitterness and I wished I could reach out to him. "I'm sure that's not what happened." I said softly, instead.

Evan shook his head, as if dismissing his thoughts. "Anyway, this is the greenhouse. Probably my favourite room in this place."

"I can see why." My eyes were glued to the plants. "My mother would have loved this place."

I could feel Evan watching me carefully. "What happened to her?" he asked quietly.

I frowned. "Didn't you read it on my file?"

"I only know she's deceased. It didn't say how."

Oh. "Breast cancer." I said, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. I tried to wash away the thoughts, but they came spilling over, as always- my mother had adored nature, hence why she loved The Charterhouse so much, with it's beautiful garden. I remembered the way she'd worked in our garden, whistling as she planted her tomatoes and radishes. The longing to give her a hug ached in my bones.

I was pulled out of my reverie by Evan's warm hand entwining into mine. It swamped my own, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. Everything was about Evan seemed cold and frosty- his straight posture, sharp jaw, dark brows and cutting gaze, but his hand was soft and rough. It was comforting, and I felt an overwhelming gratitude for him in that moment.

He met my gaze and I saw a fiery warmth burning through that icy layer he seemed to aways have on show. My heart rate accelerated and I felt my body gravitating towards him, something sparking between us in a way I couldn't explain...

"What are you doing?"

I quickly tugged my hand from Evan's as Veronica's voice cut through the moment, sharp and scathing. Her heels clipped on the floor as she trotted over us, expression twisted sourly.

"Veronica." Evan's physical shield was back up, sliding into place and shutting off his emotions. "What do you want?" I could hear the irritation towards his sister in his voice, which matched the acidic emotions running through Veronica's chord. She had the same internal emotions as the bitchier girls at school- the ones who picked on others for their own personal gain.

"Father sent me to find you." she replied shortly. "He wants you to discuss something with Crawford whilst he finishes up his interview. I hadn't realised you'd be… preoccupied." Her eyes flickered to me, and I was surprised to sense the loathing aimed towards me. I knew Veronica disliked me, but this hatred seemed hardly fair.

I stepped away from Evan. I had no intention of seeing Crawford again. The thought of coming face to face with that man made my skin crawl. Evan seemed to have a similar idea- he was frowning.

"You should go and meet him." I told him. "I'll wait for my dad to finish the interview here."

Evan glanced from Veronica to me, brow wrinkled. He was obviously torn. "But-"

"Come on, Evan." Veronica insisted, rolling her eyes. "I'm not waiting all day." She grabbed his arm. Evan shot me an apologetic look before allowing her to escort him away.

I wandered into the courtyard feeling a little dispirited, but the beauty of the place was comforting. Like the greenhouse, the grounds seemed to stretch on for miles; to my right, there was what appeared to be a horse stable, and to my left were a bunch of other outbuildings. A couple of gardeners wandered past, swinging their forks and trowels; they nodded to me, but I was too caught up in the place to respond.

I made my way down a little cobbled path to the gardens and walked through the tall bushes. But I didn't particularly want to push my luck by getting lost, so eventually I headed back up to the house.

As I approached a shed filled with garden utensils, a small, mousy man hurried up to me. "Miss Miller?" he inquired.

I glanced around. "Yes?"

The man was a little out of breath. I could sense his frantic emotions- he was a hard worker and keen to do the right thing by his boss. "I have a message from Master Winters."

"You do?" I couldn't help but feel a little excited. "What did he say?"

"He said he's sorry, but something urgent has come up. He's had to rush off, so he'll ring when it's convenient for you."

'Convenient for me'. So formal. I pushed down the wave of disappointment. "Right. Okay. And my father's interview?"

"Almost finish. I can escort you up now, if you like?" I could tell he was only being polite- he'd rather get back to work.

"That's okay. I'll make my own way there. But thank you…"

"Ethan." he provided, surprised that I cared. I felt a little pang of discomfort- so that was what it was like living in a place like this- allowing hundreds of staff to cater for your every need without even knowing their name. I didn't think I could imagine living like that. "It was nice meeting you, Miss."

"You too, Ethan." And with that he scurried off into the distance.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Sorry it's been so long! I haven't written in ages, but here are a few more chapters to this story :) Please review- it keeps me going.**_

With a sigh, I headed back into the house and towards the living room. It was such a maze, with room after room, that I was surprised when I actually managed to find the right place. My father and Henry Winters were just finishing up, shaking hands as I quietly entered the room.

"Thank you, Michael." Henry said. "It's been an honour."

"Thank _you_." Dad replied. "And trust me, the honour is all mine. I'm so grateful that you agreed to have us back."

Henry's gaze flickered to me, stood at the edge of the room. It was sharp, unreadable, and it sent a weird jolt through my veins. "That's quite alright." He replied, turning back to my father and patting his hand with a wan smile. "You're always welcome, Michael. Always."

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" Dad said, grinning as we drove home. I couldn't work out what the look in his eye meant; he seemed to be waiting for something, and his cord was tinged with excitement.

"It was alright." I grumbled, my mind wondering to Evan once again. I felt a mixture of happy and disgruntled. Happy when I thought of his hand in mine, sending fiery impulses through my body, but disgruntled when I remembered his hot and cold demeanour. What was it about that boy that I found so compelling? Maybe it was the mystery he was shrouded in. I still didn't know much about him- his past, his gift- and I couldn't understand him at all, but still, I found my body craving for him, a yearning that resonated right through my chest. Why was that? One minute I was getting lost in his gaze and the next I wanted to sucker punch him. He could be so infuriating and cold and harsh, and yet so gentle at the same time. I sighed; it seemed that although I could read other's emotions, I couldn't understand my own.

The boy had me flummoxed.

"Mr Winters was really happy with the interview," Dad continued, glancing at me. He could hardly keep himself still, hands clutched on the wheel, mouth curling into a grin. "He even gave me a gift, to 'smooth everything over'."

I raised my eyebrows. "A gift? What kind of gift?"

Dad grinned at me. I could tell this was the 'big reveal'. "Two tickets to his charity dinner. One for me… _and_ one for you."

I swallowed; the feeling hitting my chest was a mixed one- both excitement and, weirdly, dread. Why was part of me unhappy? Was it because I didn't feel I belonged in this world? I thought of the servant- Ethan- and how no one knew his name, and my chest tightened. Yes, maybe that was it. "Wow." I breathed, for Dad's benefit. "That's amazing."

"It's quite a while away- five weeks or so- but I thought you'd be excited."

"I am. Truly."

He smiled. "Good. And then, after this, you don't have to have anything else to do with this family. Okay?"

I nodded. "Okay, Dad. Thanks."

* * *

A week passed, then two, and I'd still heard nothing from Evan. I went about my studies, my mind occasionally drifting back to him, as much as I tried to avoid it. He'd left an imprint on my mind, that was for sure; as much as I hated it, I couldn't help but wonder what he was doing that made him so busy he couldn't call.

Part of me was angry, but then that anger dissipated as I began to realise that this was just Evan- this was what his life was like. As much as I hated to admit it, he didn't have the time for me- a normal human being with a normal life. He picked people up and dropped them when he pleased. He was a celebrity after all; I should have realised they had the power to do that.

I spoke to Dad about the Paris trip, and, surprisingly, he was considering it. The euphoria of his interview hadn't worn off yet, it seemed- he had made the front page of his paper, and was still feeling giddy about it. He'd said I'd have to work to help cover the cost, though, so I'd put up an advertisement for my babysitting and dog services around town. I just hoped I could get enough money in time for the cash installment.

"You okay?" Pippa asked me as our art lesson came to a close, tugging me from my thoughts. I was staring out the window, doodling on a spare piece of paper.

"Yeah, just thinking is all." I replied, scrunching up the paper and starting to pack my stuff in my bag.

She raised her arched brows. "Dare I ask what you're thinking about?"

"Everything." I smiled dryly at her. "I'm in a reflective mood."

She grinned. "That can be good for an artist. Inspirational."

I thought of the crappy doodle and sighed. "I wish."

We headed out of the art block and met up with Matt at the sixth form, where I shared my news about the Paris trip.

"Oh, this is gonna be _so good_." Matt exclaimed, excitedly. With his blonde hair and shining eyes, he reminded me of an excitable golden retriever puppy.

I laughed. "I hope so. This is my first ever time abroad."

"Then we will make it the experience of a lifetime." He replied, earnestly. "Hey, are you hearing this?" He nudged Pippa, who was busy scribbling out the remainder of an essay.

"Huh?" she asked.

"Paige is coming to Paris!"

"Ooh yay!" She pushed her glasses up her nose. "This is going to be excellent."

I rolled my eyes. "It's not definite yet, guys. It's only being considered."

But they refused to listen, and that was all the two of them would talk about for the rest of the lunch period.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted. I said goodbye to Pippa and started heading out of the gates, tugging my earphones out of my pocket in preparation for the walk to the local bus stop. Students mulled around, either chatting to their their friends or waiting for people, but most people had left. Matt had most likely disappeared with some of his football buddies- they'd probably headed to the park to play a match, or back to someone's house to play video games. Matt was a sociable person- he was always hanging out somewhere or other.

I glanced about for him, anyway, on the off chance he was around to walk with me, but his blonde head was nowhere in sight.

But someone else was. My heart stopped.


	10. Chapter 10

He may have been wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, with a grey beanie pulled over his famous dark hair, but I could tell it was him from a mile off. Before I could think about it, I was striding over to him.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, grabbing his wrist and tugging him away from the gates. I glanced anxiously over my shoulder as I pulled him behind a shrine of bushes, half expecting a mob of fan girls to come leaping out of thin air. My heart was thundering in my ears.

To my surprise, Evan was grinning, his grey eyes warm. For a millisecond, I was caught up in his gaze, lost in an inky, far off sky- but then I thumped back to reality. I scowled. "This isn't funny, Evan. Why are you here?"

He smirked, lazily. Today his eyes were a light grey, not clouded over or shrouded with darkness. They were sparkling and warm and I felt I could look at them forever. "Always the warmest of welcomes, Miller."

"I'm not messing around." I tugged my gaze away from him and glanced over to the school gates. "Someone could see us."

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't want to be seen with me? I would have thought I'd be doing you a favour- boosting your social circle a little."

"I can't think of anything worse." I replied, shortly. There was that cockiness again. He was so arrogant; it was hard to tell if he was joking or not. A sharp shot of anxiety flashed through my chest once again and I glanced around again, looking for Matt and Pippa. If they found us, and found out I hadn't told them about meeting Evan Winters… well, I didn't want to think about what the outcome would be.

"Let's get out of here." I muttered.

His smirk widened. "Why, Paige, I didn't think we'd known each other long enough to-"

I groaned. "You know what I mean, idiot, come on."

Evan kept his head down, at my request, as we made our way through the streets. I was silent as we walked, and he obviously took that as a cue that he shouldn't speak, either. My thoughts were tumbling around my head; I didn't know how I felt, or what I thought about his coming here. I knew a shortcut, so we cut through the cobbled back roads until we arrived at my favourite coffee shop- Cuppers. The bell dinged as I pushed open the door and led Evan inside. "We should be fine in here." I murmured. I didn't particularly fancy wondering the streets- it was difficult trying to hide a six foot teenage boy, let alone a movie star.

I smiled at the owner, Tom, who raised a curious eyebrow but said nothing as I led Evan to a dark booth at the back of the shop. He was looking around at the old fashioned wooden furniture with a curious smile. I knew this all had to be very new to him; the more I got to know Evan, the more I'd started to realise how little experience he had in the outside world- as much as he liked to hide it. He was sheltered by his extravagant life, and it was strange to think that someone who had seen so much and travelled so far had really experienced so little, in some ways.

I was tugged abruptly from my thoughts by Evan's voice. He was scouring the little laminated menu. "What the heck's a 'crumpet'?" He asked, brow crumpled endearingly.

I was momentarily sidetracked. "Only the best breakfast snack in the country. I would say world but it appears it hasn't reached you Americans yet."

He grinned, raising his eyebrows. "You sound fond of these snacks."

"Oh, they're more than snacks. They're heaven on a plate."

He smirked. "Maybe I'll try one someday. But for now… I'll have a black coffee." He decided, looking up at me. "You?"

"Er," I hadn't even thought about what I wanted. "I'll have a chocolate milkshake." I replied, spotting the familiar choice on the list. "All the trimmings."

"Cool." He smiled, and a rush of warmth ran through me. "I'll go order." He plucked the menu out of my hand and began to rise from the booth.

"No!" I exclaimed, suddenly. "No, it's fine. I'll do it." I didn't want more people to see him than was necessary. People were gossips around here, and everyone knew me.

Evan shot me a strange look. "O-kay." He replied, sitting back down.

I headed over to the till where Tom was cleaning a counter. He was probably in his late forties, with a scruffy beard and salt and pepper hair. He'd been friends with my mum, and had visited often during her illness, but I didn't see him so much nowadays. I looked into his familiar blue eyes and took a deep breath. "A black coffee and chocolate milkshake, please, Tom."

He nodded and got to work. I could tell he was trying to hide a smile.

It was a long two minutes as Tom made our drinks, but finally they were both on the tray.

"Four pound please, Paige."

I handed over the money, but before I could escape, Tom spoke. "A friend of yours?" He asked curiously, nodding towards Evan.

"Yep." I replied, reluctantly.

Tom nodded, eyes twinkling. "Careful there, sweetie. Boys are dangerous things."

I rolled my eyes in spite of myself, "Thanks Tom." I replied, picking up the tray before he could ask anymore.

Seeing the back of Evan's head, I felt a new bout of butterflies in my stomach. I braced myself once more before mustering my courage and striding over to him.

"Here you go." I told Evan, my voice filed with false cheeriness as I lay the tray on the table.

"Thanks." He replied, his gaze watching me, carefully.

I slid into the seat across from him and he took a deep sip of his coffee whilst I stirred the straw in my chocolate milkshake. Usually, it was my favourite drink, but today it didn't seem so appetising. My stomach was preoccupied by a constant churning sensation.

There was a pause.

"You seem stressed." Evan commented, finally. I wasn't sure how I'd missed him watching me. His gaze felt like a physical thing, brushing against my skin.

"Not… stressed." I replied carefully. "I was just surprised to see you. Especially here, of all places."

He frowned. Confused. "I thought you'd be pleased."

There was that arrogance again. I almost snorted. "I'm sure you did." I said, dryly, refraining from rolling my eyes.

"Paige, what is it?" He asked, brushing his finger against the back of my hand. A thousand tiny pinpricks crept across my skin at his touch, and I suppressed a shiver. He didn't know the effect he had on me.

"I don't know." I pulled my hand away. "I'm just confused, is all. I don't understand what's going on. With us." That was an understatement.

His brow creased further. "I don't know what you mean."

I sighed, my emotions spilling over as I thought of how he'd left me in the dust the past few weeks. The time apart had given me time to think, to recollect my thoughts. "One minute we're arguing, the next we're fine. We go out on a date- or whatever it was- then we don't speak for weeks. I come to your house, and you don't even say goodbye. I don't hear a word and then you show up at my school weeks later. It's a little confusing, Evan."

He grimaced, an unreadable emotion flashing in his eyes. "I can see that." A sigh escaped his lips. "I'm sorry, Paige. I just don't know what to say."

I found all the anger I'd felt towards him had disappeared, replaced with this calm, collected sort-of weariness. "I feel like we're always apologising to each other." I admitted.

"You're right. Sorry." He grinned sheepishly. "I mean- what do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me what's going on."

His gaze flickered over my face, sending a strange lump to my throat. "What's going on is I like you, Paige." He told me, the word _like_ sending a shiver down my spine. "You're a great girl- not like anyone I've met, and… you're different. You're good. You make me want to _be_ good. I dunno. I just find myself wanting to see you, and I know I probably shouldn't but…" He grinned again. "I never was one for playing by the rules."

My heart was thundering in my chest. His hand had reached out to mine once again and he was rubbing circles on the back of my mind, turning my thoughts to mush.

"Well?" He breathed, his dark eyes hopeful.

"I like you too." I whispered, and his expression lit up. "But…" I swallowed. "I'm not sure this will work, Evan."

He frowned, expression falling. "Why not?"

" _Because._ So many reasons. We live in opposite universes. Your prize possession is probably a Ferrari. Mine's… well, mines my dog. Our lives our completely different and we're completely different, too- and we're not perfect for each other, that's for sure, if our arguments are anything to go by."

"That's not-"

"- _and,_ " I continued. "I can't help but feel like you like the idea of me, Evan, rather than the _actual_ me. You don't even know me. You like the invisibility, the normalness of me and my life- but pretty soon you'll get bored of my mundane world and go running back to your celebrity friends, with their big houses and expensive cars and private jets. It will never work."

He was scowling, now. "That's not true at all."

"It is, Evan. We have to face the facts. This- whatever it is, between us- will never work. We have to stop."

"Stop what? We haven't even-"

"And we'd never see each other, anyway. You live across London, and with your work schedule, and my school stuff…"

"Can I speak now?" He asked.

I sighed but nodded, knowing he couldn't change my mind. I had convinced myself, even if I hadn't convinced him.

"That's complete and utter bullshit, Paige, and you know it. I _do_ know you. I know you're funny and snarky and you're not like any other girl I've met. You're different from the others, Paige, but not because you're not famous or rich. Because you're _real_. And I don't care how complicated everything is. I want to spend more time with you, and Im willing to put the effort in."

His words made my toes curl and my heart hammer in my chest, but my brain had other thoughts; it was shaking my head. I sighed, thinking of school, of my Dad, of everything in the way. It was too much. "I'm sorry, Evan. Truly, I am. I just… I can't. It's not feasible."

He'd soon realise it wasn't meant to be, anyway, and go running back to one of his supermodel ex's.

I stood, grabbing my jacket and bag. "It was nice to see you. I'll see you around."

I strode quickly out of the shop before he could reply, passing Tom at his counter and a couple of other customers sat at tables. The door chimed as I opened it, stepping out onto the quiet street, and it fell shut behind me. I ignored the strange ache in my stomach and began to walk quickly home.

But it wasn't two minutes later that I heard it. Running footsteps.

"Paige!" he called, and I turned, sighing, to see Evan making his way towards me. I opened my mouth, ready to explain, to apologise, but then he was standing in front of me. His expression was distressed, filled with emotion- more emotion than I thought Evan Winters was capable of; his hair was ruffled from the beanie, and his eyes were pleading. "You can't just leave like this Paige. Look, the reason I came here today, of all days, was because I can't stop thinking about you. I've tried to fight it, I really have, but when everything else turns to shit, all I want is you."

"Evan…" I squeezed my eyes shut. I wanted him so badly, but we couldn't- it wasn't possible- and I could never refuse him when I was looking into those eyes.

He stood above me, gaze scouring into mine and I felt compelled to look up at him. "The truth is," he said, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, "my life is a mess. I know it doesn't look it, but my family is falling apart, Paige. And sometimes I feel like I'm so close to the edge- to turning into one of those stupid famous teenage washups . But with you…. I've never met anyone like you Paige. You keep my grounded, you make me laugh. I know we barely know each other, but I just feel so _sane_ around you, Paige. And I get it if you don't want this- just say the word and I'll l go. But if there's any part of you that thinks this could work, if _we_ could work… then tell me. Please."

I swallowed, looking up into those eyes, trying so hard to resist my heart.

Finally, I nodded.

Relief bled into his eyes, and then he did something unexpected; he kissed me.

For a heartbeat I just stood there, speechless, but then I finally had the sense to kiss him back. It wasn't a soft kiss- it was rough and passionate and completely _Evan_ ; I felt as though my whole body was being set alight. His hands pulled me towards him, and the warmth of his lips seemed to melt me against him. A voice in the back of my brain told me maybe this was wrong- Evan was obviously distressed, and I shouldn't have been taking advantage of him like this- but my lips weren't listening; they moved of their own accord as the two of us melded together, moving and dancing as he pulled me closer and I ran my fingers through his hair. I felt as if I were underwater, filled with this incredible, burning warmth that I never wanted to end…

And then it was over.

He pulled away, breathless, his eyes searching mine with concern. "Fuck, I'm sorry, Paige." he rasped. "I shouldn't have done that."

The feeling of euphoria was slowly fading and a blush rose in my cheeks. "You shouldn't have?" I echoed, the hurt disappointment clear in my voice.

Evan closed his eyes and pressed his forehead down to mine, holding me in his warm arms. "Not like that. I've wanted to for so long- wanted _you_ for so long. But not here, not at this moment."

My brow furrowed in confusion, but my heart was pounding at his words. _I've wanted you for so long_. "Why not?" I asked.

He let out a quiet laugh, pulling away from me. His sudden absence made me ache for his touch, his warmth, but I said nothing. "I don't know." he said. "I want things to be different with you. Because… well, because _you're_ different. And I'm a bit of a mess today. All over the place. I wanted to be with you, kiss you when the timing was perfect..."

I smiled then. A huge, shit-eating grin. I probably looked like a bit of a weirdo to Evan, but it had just hit me that _Evan_ _Winters-_ the beautiful boy who I had unknowingly cared about for so long- liked me back. And in that moment I knew that the two of us would be okay. I felt it deep within my bones.

"I think it's the perfect moment." I whispered, before reaching up to entwine myself in him once more.


	11. Chapter 11

"So you're a savant." Evan commented. We were heading along the empty pavement to the bus station, my hand curled in his as the sun slipped behind the horizon, giving the world a warm orange glow.

"I am." I couldn't stop smiling. I'd realised that when Evan and I weren't arguing or bickering, what we had was good- really good. Just looking at him made me feel giddy.

"With a gift for reading emotions."

"But I still can't read yours." I reminded him.

He smirked and used our linked hands to pull me closer, so I was leaning against his chest and his lips were inches from mine. "That's definitely a good thing." He murmured, running his hand through my choppy brown hair. He left trails of fire wherever he touched.

"It is?" I practically squeaked.

He swallowed, moving his fingers down the soft skin at the side of my face, and nodded. "I definitely don't want you to know what I'm thinking now." I could feel his heart beating solidly behind his chest. Even at this proximity, my body ached to be closer to him. How hadn't I seen that this was what I was missing?

I pulled away, keeping our hands entwined. I couldn't think when he was so close.

"What about you?" I asked.

"What about me?" He replied. His voice was hoarse, and he quickly cleared it. I suppressed a smile; it seemed I wasn't the only one who was affected by the proximity.

"What's your gift?"

He shrugged as we carried on walking. "I'm a telekinesis. And a telepath."

"Are you any good?" I'd heard of people who were exceptional at telekinesis. They could move cars or buildings with their minds. Perhaps that was Evan's main gift. Or maybe he was dodging the question.

He grimaced. "No. I've never practiced really. We've always kept everything savant related… under cover. Secret. It would be a nightmare in my profession if we used the gifts freely, so Both V and I haven't since we were kids- before we learnt how to control them."

I squeezed his hand. "I was the same. Dad's incredibly... overprotective. But that wasn't what I meant." I looked up at him, meeting his gaze curiously. "I want to know what _your_ gift is."

He smirked, pulling me closer again. Okay, he was _definitely_ dodging the question. "Guess."

I frowned; growing up in my sheltered life, I didn't know many different gifts. I thought of Misty and her friends- the only real contact I had with the savant world. "Um… you make people tell the truth?"

I already knew it wasn't right before he shook his head. It wasn't… Evan; Misty's gift was far too open for someone so introverted and in control of their emotions. Then again, she'd told me about a Benedict brother, Yves, who was sweet and quiet but could set anything alight with his mind. I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of someone with a gift like that.

"Do you control fire?" I asked, hopefully.

"Nope."

"Water?"

He shook his head again. He was smiling.

"Air? Earth?"

Evan laughed. "I'm not an Avatar Paige." Then, more gently, "Try again."

Seeing my confused expression, his eyes widened. "Tell me you know about Avatar."

I shrugged. Did he mean the movie with the blue people? "No can do."

"Wow." He blew air out his cheeks. "We've got some serious work to do."

I smiled in spite of myself, liking the sound of that. I gave him a playful push. "Nerd."

He raised his brows. "Is that what you think of me?"

"Well, if the museum was anything to go by then yes. Now, tell me your gift."

"We only reached the tips of my fountain of knowledge at that museum."

"Evan, _tell_ me." I moaned.

He sighed and glanced around. The street was quiet, but his eyes were still distrustful as they took in the shadows. "I'll have to show you. But not now. Some other time."

I frowned. "Why? You know my gift."

"Trust me Paige." His gaze was intense; it sent cartwheels through my stomach. "I will show you. I promise."

I nodded, seeing the certainty in his eyes. "Okay."

We walked for the next few steps in comfortable silence. The bus stop was just up ahead.

"It's a nice place you live." Evan told me, taking in the rows of shops and cobbled pavements. "Quiet."

"And safe." I added. "That's why Dad chose it."

He raised a brow. "So when you say overprotective…"

"I mean _completely_ overprotective. Excessive. Crazy, even."

Evan frowned, lifting our entwined hands. "I'm guessing he won't like this then?"

I snorted. "Definitely."

He flared his nostrils; a mannerism that made me bite back a smile.

"I don't get it." He admitted. "Why does he worry so much? It's not like you live a particularly dangerous life."

I knew what he meant; I didn't live in the limelight like he did. I sighed. It wasn't a story I particularly wanted to get in to.

"He never used to be like this." I explained. "But after everything that happened with my mum… seeing her get so sick and weak, watching her deteriorate and then having to deal with the grief of losing her... I just don't think he could bare experiencing that again. He became paranoid that something would happen to me. Wouldn't let me leave the house alone for months. But… it's better now." _Slightly_ , I thought, but decided not to add that. I didn't want to scare him off.

Evan's frown deepened. "That's…" Depressing? Weird? Creepy? "Sad." He replied, finally. "But he can't dictate your life, Paige. In a year or so you'll be going off somewhere, doing your own thing."

I fiddled with my bag strap. "I don't know about that." The thought of leaving Dad to depend on himself made me sick to my stomach. I was dependent on him just as much as he was dependent on him.

"What? You don't have plans?" Evan asked, surprised.

"It's not that. It's just…" I shook my head. "You wouldn't understand."

His gaze flickered over my face, determined. "Try me."

I sighed, trying to conjure up the words as we strolled along. The way he showed such interest in me had my heart beating in my chest. I still didn't understand why _Evan Winters_ cared about me, but I wasn't complaining. It was a nice change. "I don't know. Do you ever feel like you're trapped? Like you can see the way out but you just can't leave, for some reason? That's like my life here. Dad needs me. And I need him."

His forehead puckered. "Well, surely you could visit him?"

"It's not just that. Dad… relies on me, I guess. He was in pretty bad shape when Mum passed. I help heal him." I remembered what Mum had said whenever I'd played down my gift, and smiled- _you are exceptional, Paige. You've been given the opportunity to heal people, perhaps in the most important ways. Sometimes mental illnesses can be far more crippling than physical._

"Heal him?" His brows bumped together. "But-"

"What would you do?" I asked, suddenly wanting to change the subject. "If you weren't an actor, if you weren't _Evan Winters._ Where would you go? What would you see?"

Thankfully, he got the obvious hint that I didn't want to talk about my parents any longer, and his eyes became thoughtful. "Hmm. If I could go anywhere?" He glanced down at me. "I'd probably go travelling. The world of the famous is so fake and unnatural. Sometimes I just want to escape. Don't get me wrong- I've been to countries all over the world, filming, or on holiday- but… It's always either been packed with work or I've been enclosed in the hotel, unable to get away in case someone recognised me. I'd love to go somewhere completely remote and just be a nobody- camouflage in the background and just see something beautiful and _real_." He smirked down at me. "What about you?"

My head stuttered as his grey eyes met mine. Evan didn't understand just how much I dreamed of those things too- of getting away, traveling the world. It had been a goal of mine since I was little. I swallowed, looking up at him. I wanted to run my hands through his dark hair, but I settled with just moving closer to him. He swung his arm over my shoulder and held me closer as we entered the little bus stop and perched on the seats there.

"I want that too." I admitted. "I have this globe in my room- it sounds stupid, I know- but sometimes I swing it round and pick a country and… imagine that I'll go there."

He frowned, arms tightening slightly. "That's not stupid, Paige. Why can't you?"

I didn't want to get back into the Dad conversation. "Just… reasons."

He nodded, changing the subject. "And after you travel?"

I smiled. "In a dream world, art school. Well... I'd focus on photography, maybe. I'm not sure exactly what I want to do, but I've always loved taking pictures. Either that, or… I take psychology, so with my gift I guess I could get into counselling or something, but I'm not sure yet. I love animals, so I used to want to be a vet, but I think that's a lot harder than I thought." I grinned. "Maybe I'll just stick to having lots of pets."

"What have you got now?" Evan asked curiously

"A golden retriever, Max. You'll have to meet him sometime. He's a cutie."

Evan smiled and my heart did a somersault. "I'd like that."

A couple of minutes later, the bus arrived and we hopped on. It was empty apart from a couple of elderly people so we sat near the back, looking out the window. The sky had turned a reddish- purple colour as the sun nearly disappeared completely. I wished I could stay here, with Evan, forever.

"What's it like over there?" I asked, resting my head on his shoulder. "In America?"

He played with my hair, running his fingers through it. It was crazy how close we'd got all of a sudden, but I just felt so _right_ with Evan. When we weren't biting each other's noses off.

"It's… different." He replied. "The press are harder to manage, if you can believe that. But there are more places to go, more hideouts to escape too."

I smiled. "Oh yeah? Like where?"

He tapped his nose. "Now that's a secret."

"Will I ever get to indulge in it?"

He cocked his head, eyes sparkling. "Hmm. We'll have to see about that."

"I'm offended."

He threw back his head and laughed- a rich, deep, beautiful sound. "Tell you what," he said, lacing his hands in mine. "Why don't you come with me and you can find out?"

His eyes bored into mine, full of sincerity, and my heart leapt. Travel to America? It was my dream to see the world, to experience places and people and things.

I scoffed. "Evan, I barely know you."

He shrugged, eyes warm and dancing. "Maybe in a couple of months, then. I want to go back at some point."

I swallowed. "You mean it?" I breathed, my voice suddenly vulnerable. I didn't think I could bear for him to joke about this. Travelling was something dangerously close to my heart.

His eyes were soft. "Would I lie to you?"

I shot him a look and he laughed again. "Okay- don't answer that. _Yes_ , I mean it Paige. I think you'd be a wonderful travel companion."

I blushed. "You wouldn't be saying that if you met me in the morning."

He grinned. "Not a morning person?"

"Nope. It's almost impossible to wake me up if I'm content with sleeping."

"I'm sure I could wake you up."

I shook my head. " couldn't even tempt me with a crumpet."

His smile lit up my chest. "What if I did this?"

He stopped me with a kiss, and soon my whole body was burning with flames as our lips moved together, like fire and ice. It was a good thing we were at the back of the bus, since I think the few old ladies would have been astounded at our public displays of affection.

By the time the bus pulled to a stop, my lips were swollen and my hair was a mess. Evan and I were grinning like two thirteen year olds as we stumbled off, thanking the driver as we went. I felt like I was flying, and it scared me that at any time I could crash and fall. It scared me even more that I didn't really care.

My house was only a few doors down from the bus stop, and I pulled Evan against my next-door-neighbours stone wall, where my Dad couldn't see us. I wasn't ready to say goodbye yet.

"Is this yours?" He whispered, his breath warm against my lips. In the halflight, he towered above me, and I was made breathless by the curve of his jaw and spray of stubble on his chin.

"Next door." I muttered, looking up at him. My heart was trembling inside my chest like a butterfly, my hands feeling like jelly as I entwined them around his neck. The desire to kiss him was overwhelming, pulsing through me.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are, Paige Miller?" His voice was throaty.

I swallowed. "I don't believe you have, Evan Winters."

A grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Then I am a very bad person." He muttered, before his lips crashed to mine.

It was like all my Christmases had come at once. Evan's lips moved with expert skill, and I gasped quietly before kissing him back with equal force. Everything disappeared around me as white noise reverberated through my skull and my lips super-glued themselves to his. It was all Evan's fault- he applied _just_ the right amount of pressure; enough to make my knees weak, but still keep me desperate for more.

His eyes were shut as he kissed me, and I wished I could see the smoky grey of his irises, to see what he was feeling, but still I pressed against him, uncaring.

He had me pushed against the wall, and I felt my eyes shoot open in surprise as he lifted my thighs; I curled around him instinctively, lost in the kiss. Evan however, wasn't perturbed. He was in complete control as his hands brushed my hips, sending sparks flying across my skin and eliciting a gasp from me as I held him close, overwhelmed by the electricity he was creating in my body- the overwhelming, pulsing sensation as my heart pumped blood around and that pounding sound roared in my ears. I pulled off his beanie, giving into my desire to run my hand through his hair. It was as soft as I had imagined and a new jolt of pleasure ran through my body. Our lips were roving over one another as we melded against each other, entwined.

And then it was over. I didn't think I'd ever get used to kissing him.

I slumped, panting, against the wall. Evan rested his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. "I didn't know it could be this good." He murmured.

I shook my head, breathless. "Neither did I."

I don't know how long we started there for, but eventually reality came knocking. My dad was only a house away; it was dark. "I have to go." I told him, pulling away.

His hand reached out to catch me, dark eyes roving my face. The desire there sent my heart thumping. "When will I see you again?" He whispered, roughly.

I glanced inside. "The charity ball. That's soon, right?"

He shook his head, frowning. "Not soon enough."

I smiled; Evan may not have been able to control fire, or any other element, but the whole world still felt like it had been set alight. "Call me."

He nodded, releasing my arm. "I will."

His eyes were so filled with certainty that I couldn't help but believe him as he looked at me once more, before disappearing into the darkness.

I took a deep breath. Now I just had to face my Dad.


	12. Chapter 12

**This one contains darker tones and themes, so please note: a trigger warning of depression and terminal illness. Please review x**

The pebbles crunched under my feet as I walked up our gravel driveway. The house was weirdly quiet- all the lights were off, and I wondered for a moment if Dad was even in. But, of course he was. He'd never leave without knowing I was safely locked inside.

Before I went in, I tried to comb down my hair and checked the time. It was only seven thirty, but I knew he'd overreact.

And I was right.

"Where were you?" His voice cut through the silence like a knife.

Uh oh. I could sense the anger and worry in his cord as soon as I stepped into the house, and I quickly located him; He was sat in the kitchen in the dark, with the only source of light being the moon casting a cold glow through the room. I couldn't read his expression.

"I texted you." I murmured, softly. Dad didn't appear to be in a good state, and icicles shot through my heart, remembering what he'd been like after Mum had passed. But no- things had improved. They weren't like that anymore. He was just worried, like a normal father.

He grunted.

My gaze flickered anxiously over him, all thoughts of normal evaporating. In the moonlight his skin looked ghostly pale and he was slumped awkwardly over our little kitchen table. "Dad, are you okay?"

"Your Uncle Jerry called."

"Uncle Jerry?" I thought quickly; it was a name I barely knew; a brother on my mother's side who we barely ever saw. "What did he want?"

"Your Grandmother passed away."

"Oh." I felt a mingled sense of sadness and confusion. The sadness was more on Dad's part, due to the grief stinging his cord, but I felt confused, too. I didn't think he'd been that close to my Grandmother- my mother's mum. We hadn't seen her in years.

I slipped into the seat opposite him, curling my hair behind my ears. "What happened?"

"A stroke." His voice was tight with emotion, his face clouded in shadow; he still didn't look at me. I tried to probe at his emotions, to adjust them, but they wouldn't move.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Dad." Was this bringing back memories of Mum? Had he wished he'd visited Grandma more? I reached out to hold his hand, but recoiled in surprise as a sharp flash of anger shot through me, burning my skin. It was directed at me.

There was a long pause. This didn't feel right. "Dad?" I whispered.

I was met with a stony silence, and worry began to claw at my chest. He hadn't been this angry or upset since… I thought quickly and re-evaluated the room, until my eyes landed on a Vodka bottle in the shadows on top of a cabinet. Panic pierced my heart. "Dad, talk to me." I pleaded. "Have you been drinking?"

He gritted his teeth. "Where were you Paige?"

Now wasn't time for the truth. "I told you- I went out with Matt and Pippa. I texted you to let you know."

"It was dark. And late. Anything could have happened."

"Dad I told you, I'm sorry."

"You were with that boy, weren't you?"

"No, I-"

" _Don't lie to me_." he seethed. I was frozen in my seat, my heart fluttering manically. No. This couldn't be happening again; he was better; he'd been getting _better._

"Dad-"

His fists were clenched together, his body trembling. "You were off gallivanting again, when I… when I needed you _here,_ Paige _."_

He finally looked at me, and his usually gentle eyes were viscous, filled with anger. For the first time in a long, long while, fear shot through my heart.

"Dad, you're drunk, and you… you need to go to bed." I told him, trying to be firm.

I reached out, ready to fill his cord with sleepiness, but he was too quick. He grasped my wrist and bored his eyes into mine; I knew what was happening before it occurred.

"Dad, wait-" I hissed, eyes wide.

But it was too late. A rush of memories flooded my head. Memories from a long time ago- of him and Mum sat in a summer garden, lying on a picnic blanket on their backs; sat in a movie theatre, stealing popcorn from one another; making lunch with a younger-looking grandma; Dad plaiting Mum's long brown hair, and pressing kisses on the nape of her neck. She had big green eyes like me, and seeing the elation sparkling in them sent a wave of nostalgia through me. I watched the images swim past, the speed making my eyes water and my heart throb.

Then there were more recent memories: Mum, sick and weak and pale, lying on our sofa, her thinning hair plastered to her face with sweat; her too-shrill laugh causing a nosebleed that stained her favourite top; her crouched over the toilet, throwing up with her headscarf falling off to reveal her short, patchy hair. "No," I croaked, but the memories whizzed past, whipping away my voice. "Stop." These memories hurt so much more, and my gift amplified that, mingling my grief with Dad's. Mum was dying all over again, slowly fading away, then being dropped into the earth. I watched Dad arguing with grandma over funeral arrangements, shouting with his face contorted with fury, and as she slammed the door I realised why we hadn't seen her in so long. Not since the funeral, I remembered, now. And I could see why. I watched my Dad crumble all over again- a younger me trying to prise a beer bottle from his hand. I saw him get angry and cold, and then collapse in a sobbing heap on the floor as he realised what was happening to him. He was soulfinder-less; alone.

Pain stabbed at my heart as I finally understood how Dad felt- Grandma's death _had_ bought back his memories, full force. He was so full of pain, regret and anger, that even I couldn't help him.

"Stop, stop! _Please_." I begged. I was sobbing, my breaths coming in ragged pants, snot pouring out my nose.

Finally, he released me, his head dropping dejectedly into his arms, and I tugged myself away from him, running out the kitchen and upstairs.

I flung myself onto my bed and sobbed into my pillow until exhaustion finally swallowed me up whole.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews! Please please please keep them coming if you're reading this story.**

The next morning, I awoke early to the sensation of Max licking my face. As it turned out, he had curled up on my bed whilst I slept, and I was grateful to have him there.

"Hi Maxie." I murmured sleepily, scratching his head. Seeing I was alright, he slumped back down on the bed and went to sleep. I ignored every bone in my body that told my to copy him and crawl back into bed, and pushed back the covers. My head ached and my joints cracked as I stretched; I wasn't a morning person on the best days, and this was far from it.

BLearily, I showered and brushed out my hair almost robotically, trying to forget the events of the night before. But even I could see that my eyes looked haunted in the mirror- my skin was a sickly pale colour, making the green irises look even larger and more ghost-like than usual, and my usually-straggly hair was even limper than normal.

Splashing some cold water on my face, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a dark hoodie, feeling sick to my stomach.

The happiness and warmth that Evan had instilled in me with had quickly evaporated. I could barely even remember how it had felt to be with him last night- wandering the streets and feeling as if I had no care in the world. Now I just felt cold, and numb, and I had no idea how I was going to face my Dad.

But as it turned out, I didn't have to. Not yet, at least. He was still wearing his clothes from the day before, passed out and snoring on the sofa. The vodka bottle lay at his feet, and I emptied the trickle of remains in the sink before throwing it away before pulling a blanket over him. With one last glance at the man snoring on the sofa, I slipped out the front door.

"What happened to you?" Pippa asked, as she saw my expression. She was sat at the table wearing a denim blue pinafore and a bright yellow t-shirt that read, "The Future Is Female"; it was one Matt had bought her a while back, and it made my outfit look even more depressing than it was. Not that any outfit could have cheered up my mood- we had art together, and I was far from excited at the prospect.

I tried to muster a smile. "Not much. I just didn't sleep well last night."

Her brow creased with concern. Her blue eyes were hidden behind a thick pair of black glasses, hair pulled into a pony tail. "Is there something worrying you?"

I shook my head, feeling as if every little action was stealing some of my non-existent energy. Could you go into an energy debt? I was sure it had to be a thing, because that was exactly how I felt. "Just bad dreams."

She pulled a face, pushing her glasses up her nose. "I hate that. I have a dream book you can borrow, if you like? Mum got it me at christmas and it's actually quite-"

I zoned out as Pippa babbled on, nodding occasionally to show her I was still listening. At least art wouldn't take up much brain work. We had all started our pieces, so I was simply shading in a copy of one of the images I'd done of Matt.

I was right, thankfully, and I let my mind ander to happier thoughts as I sketched, drifting away from all the shit with Mum and Dad.

About halfway through the lesson, my phone buzzed. A text. from Evan. My hands shocked as I opened it.

 _Last night was amazing,_ he said. I closed my eyes briefly, remembering the feeling of his lips on mine. I so wished I could go back, when everything didn't feel quite so messed up. As I brushed up on Matt's nose, I daydreamed about wondering those streets again.

The aforementioned boy wasn't around - he was probably off with some of his mates -so Pippa and I headed outside at break- it was a nice day, and normally I would have enjoyed the sun, but I just couldn't get those memories out of my mind. My Mum hovered at the edge of every thought, her pale, sickly face staring up at me with pained eyes. I shuddered.

"You don't look great, Paige." Pippa admitted, taking a bite of her breakfast bar. "Are you sure it was just a bad dream?"

"Yeah, I think so."

She shook her head. "That sucks. Tell you what might take your mind off it- Matt's brother is having a party soon. We should all go."

I tried to look pleased, but a party was the last thing on my mind. And Matt's brother Jeremy was known for being a bit of a dick- wild and eccentric, he was the opposit to child out Matt- it would surely be a manic night. "I'll have to see." I said.

Pippa smiled. "I know it's not really our scene, but if I'm going, you _have_ to go. You're far more confident than me, Paige."

I scoffed at that, digging my hands into my pocket. I felt far from confident today. "We'll see."

She shrugged. "That's good enough for me. _So_ ," Pippa raised her eyebrows, "what did you do last night? Matt said he didn't see you at the bus stop."

There was no getting out of that one, then. I thought quickly. "Yeah, I, Er… took a walk."

"A walk?" Pippa echoed, dubiously. "Paige, you're like, the _least_ walk-like person I know."

I couldn't help but feel defensive. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Pippa threw back her head and laughed. "You're not serious?" Seeing my offended expression, she attempted to hide her smile. "Okay, okay. I just mean- you're not the most active of people, Paige. Matt does his football, I go sailing at the lake…"

"I exercise!" I protested. "I… go to Pilates class, sometimes."

"You went once. And that was only because I dragged you along. Then you refused to go again."

"The guy had wondering eyes."

She looked exasperated. "Mike's gay, Paige."

"Well… there were too many feet. You know feet freak me out."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I have heard that before."

I grinned in spite of myself; Pippa had her own way of cheering me up. "Oh, shove off."

She laughed again. "So what were you really doing last night?" She asked, suddenly curious. "Is there a guy?"

I shook my head, but I was blushing.

"A girl?" She asked.

I smiled. "Nope."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to read my expression. "Hmm, but there is someone… oh, there _is_ a guy!"

I scowled. "How do you know?"

"Oh, I just do. And you've now acknowledged it. Now tell me, what's he like? Do I know him?"

I sighed. "You'll… probably know him." I admitted, fiddling with my sleeve.

"Oh that's _so_ exciting. You'll be the first one of us to have a boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend." I grumbled. "And I'm sure Matt's had flings."

She waved that away. "Oh well, not like this. I'm so happy for you Paige!"

"I barely even know him. Can we _please_ stop talking about this?"

"Fine, just tell me one thing- did he come back to yours after? Did anything happen?"

Did anything happen? The world revolved sickeningly as the memories and the echoes of pain I'd felt hit me head-on again. My Dad broken, my Mum dying, Grandma's face pale with grief- and me standing by, helpless.

"Paige?" Pippa's concerned face swam into view. "You look pale."

"I actually don't feel that great." I admitted. "I… might head home."

"It wasn't my questioning, was it? Nothing to do with that guy?" She asked, anxious.

"No." I assured her, "I just felt a bit sick. I think I'm coming down with something. I might catch the bus."

She nodded, patting me on the back. "I think that's for the best."

Her kindness filled me with the sudden urge to cry and I gave her a sudden tight squeeze. "Thanks, Pippa. You're a great friend."

"Oh." She smiled, brightly. "Well, thanks, Paige. I hope you feel better soon."

Dad wasn't around when I got home at midday, so I changed into my pyjamas and did some work from home. The desk in my room was small and shabby, but it was right by the window and I used Dad's old work laptop, so I liked working there. The window overlooked my little street, so I spotted Dad's car immediately as it pulled up on the drive at five o'clock.

My heart pounded.

The door opened downstairs, slamming shut behind him, and my body froze at the desk. I wasn't ready to face Dad; not after what had happened. Yes, he'd been flat-out drunk, but those images… I shuddered. Where his gift of recalling memories could be incredibly beautiful, it could also be a dangerous weapon. They would haunt me for a while.

I listened carefully, as still as a deer caught in headlights, as he hung up his coat and dropped his bag down. His footsteps were muffled as they ascended the stairs, and I held my breath as he made his way across the landing. I prepared myself for the grovelling apology, for the pleading eyes and the asking for forgiveness. I was going to be strong, I decided. I'd forgive him yes, but I was going to berate him, tell him it wasn't ok, that maybe he needed help that I couldn't give him.

There was a soft knock on the door. "Paige?"

I swallowed. Here it was. "Yeah?"

Dad pushed the door open. He was wearing his tweed brown suit and a concerned frown. "Hi, poppet." He made his way across the room and placed his hand on my forehead. That was _not_ what I'd been expecting.

"Dad?" I asked, surprised.

He dropped his hand and perched on the edge of the bed. "The school called. Said that you'd gone home ill. You should have rung me- I would have come and pick you up."

He was frowning- the worried parent. "Oh." I said, unsure how to respond. "Sorry?" It came out more like a question than a statement.

"That's alright. How are you feeling?"

I watched him cautiously. "Um… good. Better now." I ran my hand through my hair. What was going on? "Er, what about you?" I asked.

"Me?" He blinked.

"You'd had a lot to drink last night." I reminded him, waiting for it to click.

"Oh, yeah." He smiled. "Sorry about that- I head about your Grandma and I had a nightcap before dozing off." His expression fell. "What time did you get in? Not late, I hope?"

I frowned; he didn't remember? "No, about sevenish, remember? I went out with Pippa and Matt."

He smiled. "That's right. Ah, well. The footy's on so I'm gonna head downstairs. Get an early night, Poppet."

He kissed my forehead and headed over to my door. Suddenly, he turned around. "Oh! That reminds me- I've got a meeting tonight- a dinner reservation with some of my colleagues at seven. You'll be alright here on your own? I can cancel if you feel too unwell- or ask Bertha to come round from next door?"

"No, that's fine." I didn't want Betha to come over- she'd babysat me as a child and was a nosy old hag in her sixties who liked watching lots of Jeremy Kyle.

He hesitated. "You sure?"

"Yes, Dad. It's fine."

"Ok." He smiled and left the room, shutting the door behind him. I stared after him, thoughts swirling in my head. How could he have forgotten?

I glanced back at the computer screen, at my half written essay, then at my phone, wishing there was someone I could contact, could talk to- but none of my friends knew about my Dad. I'd told Pippa and Matt about my Mum, of course, and it had come up briefly with Misty, but there wasn't really anyone else.

Unless…

I stared at my phone.

Could I…?

Before I could think about it, I'd typed out the message, and pressed send. _Is tonight too soon?_

My heart thundered in my chest as I waited for his reply.


	14. Chapter 14

It didn't come whilst Dad was downstairs, watching the football; it didn't come as I ate a microwavable macaroni and cheese, and it didn't come as I finished the tonal on Matt's face. But finally, as Dad got ready for his meal, he replied.

 _Just tell me where and when._

I grinned to myself, before typing my reply. _7:15, my place._

"Bye, Poppet!" Dad called. "Keep the door locked. I'll be home soon."

"Will do. Bye Dad." I replied, still feeling unsettled. I couldn't close my eyes without seeing his angry, contorted face from the night before. I couldn't understand how he'd just forgotten completely- or maybe he just wanted to forget.

I changed out of my faded blue Pjs, decorated with yellow ducks, into some grey sweatpants and a long sleeved crop top, so I'd look slightly more respectable as Evan showed up at my door. Which he did, twenty minutes later.

"Hey." I stuttered, thrown by his height and his shoulders and his eyes.

He was wearing a black t-shirt, jeans, and a small smirk. "Hey."

There was a pause as we took each other in. He was bathed in shadows, but that didn't stop my gaze from trailing along the dark hair falling to his neck to the expensive-looking shoes he wore. He looked good; far too good for me.

"Can I come in?" He asked, his smirk lighting up those eyes, dipped in shadows.

I blinked, a blush rising on my cheeks. I'd been so caught up in him that my mind had wondered. "Oh. Yeah. Sure."

I stood back and watched as he took in my humble abode, feeling a wave of embarrassment. My house was nothing like Evan's- which was practically a mansion with endless rooms, and I wondered what he was thinking.

"Evan?" I asked, uncertain.

"I love this place." He told me, looking around. "I wished I lived somewhere like this."

I rolled my eyes. "Now you're being stupid."

"No, seriously. It's homely. Nothing like my place."

I rubbed my bare arms, unsure what to say to that. "Well... thanks, I guess ."

His eyes twinkled. "You're welcome."

There was a pause. Was it me or was this slightly awkward? He seemed at ease, but i was worried it was- it didn't help that i couldn't read his bloody emotions to check. I had to go on instinct, which didn't usually end well. I wasn't sure if it was the memories of last night weighing on me or just being so close to him knowing that something had shifted. Nevertheless, I was grateful he was here. Today had been disastrous and I needed a friend, even if I wasn't sure what Evan was exactly.

"Do you want a drink or anything?" I asked. "Coffee? Tea? Or we have other stuff in the fridge."

"Any crumpets available?"

I smiled, but it didn't reach my eyes. "No crumpets, I'm afraid."

"Coffee would be great."

I made my way into the kitchen, Evan trailing behind. The lights were off, so I quickly turned them on, my stomach turning as a I remembered seeing the slumped form of my father at the table, the burning fury in his eyes.

"You okay?"

I jumped, realising I'd been staring at the chair where dad had sat. Evan was looking at me weirdly.

"Fine." I replied, quickly, avoiding his gaze. "Black coffee, I assume?"

"Yeah, that'd be good." He sat down at the table as I made a coffee for him.

"So,what have you done today?" He asked.

"Not much. You know- school." I didn't tell him that I'd come home early as I poured the boiling water into a mug that read 'World's Best Dad'. "What about you?"

He sighed. "I had this meeting about a project I finished a couple of months ago. They're trying to finish up the last touches in production. All very boring stuff. The best bits over."

From the twinkle in his eye, I could tell he'd enjoyed it. "What's the project?" I asked, giving the coffee a stir.

"It's a film." He didn't expand.

"About?"

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly sheepishly. That was new. "Top secret, I'm afraid. I'll have to tell you at a later date."

I smiled, but once again it felt false on my face. "Fair enough." I glanced around. "What do you want to do tonight?"

"I don't mind. You decide."

"Movie?" I offered, passing him his finished drink.

"Sure." He shrugged. This felt weird- too staged, and formal. Or was it just me? I needed to calm down- this wasn't usually like me. I was Super Paige. Sarcastic, funny, impulsive. What had happened? I grabbed some popcorn from the cupboard, then fiddled with my hands, suddenly unsure how to act around him.

I went to sit down, but decided I didn't fancy sitting at this table after all the crap last night. "Let's go into the lounge." I told Evan.

He stood up and followed me through the hallway and into the living room, which was also bathed in darkness. As I laid eyes on the sofa Dad had passed out on, my stomach turned again, and I quickly backtracked, turning back to Evan. "Actually, would it be ok if we watched a movie in my room?"

"Oh," An expression like mild surprise passed across his eyes, but he shrugged, trying to gauge my expression. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you want."

I took a deep breath and smiled, shutting the living room door behind me. "Great, thanks. Sorry, I'm a bit all over the place today."

Evan didn't reply.

I led him upstairs, into my small bedroom. The walls were painted an indigo colour, filled with peeling posters of my favourite bands and a pin board filled with movie receipts, polaroids and train tickets. A door on the right besides my old cd case led to the on suite and my desk stood over by the window, on the other side of the room. At the bottom of the room was my wardrobe, packed beside an old chest of drawers, and in the middle of it all, protruding awkwardly, was my bed.

Evan and I stared at it.

"Er, just make yourself comfortable." I told him quickly, cheeks burning as I grabbed the laptop and logged in.

He perched on the side of the bed, and I bit my lip to prevent a smile. I was completely out of my element, but for some reason it was amusing seeing the notorious Evan Winters look out of place in a girl's bedroom.

"Here we go." I said, sitting beside him and getting up Netflix. "What do you want to watch?"

He glanced at me. "What do you like?"

"Titanic?" I offered, trying not to laugh.

He elbowed me in the ribs, but I could see he was holding back a smile.

I scanned the page, browsing the different genres. "StepBrothers?" I offered, flicking through, "The Interview?"

I could feel his warm gaze on my skin as I looked at the movie titles, very aware of the bare skin of his tan arms brushing mine. My stomach did a little flip; _Evan Winters_ was sat on my bed.

clearing my throat, I glanced up at him questioning my. "What'll it be?"

Evan might have been hard to read, but it was clear he wasn't pleased with my choices. "How about something with more artistic skill. Interstellar? Shawshank Redemption?"

I scoffed. 'Artistic skill'. Pretentious arse. "What, boring films?"

"Better than that other garbage."

"They're _funny._ " I argued, narrowing my eyes.

"no, they're crap. They have nothing to them."

He could be so blunt sometimes. It irritated me. "Well _I_ think they're good, and you should learn that you don't always get your way."

His jaw tightened, but he seemed to refrain from unleashing his anger with a sharp comment- something I seemed incapable of doing. "Fine, pick what you want." He folded his arms across his chest.

"Fine." If he was going to act like a child, then I'd pick the film.

A stony minute passed in silence.

I glance at Evan, who's expression was completely shut off. He really had never picked a movie with someone before; he obviously didnt know how the process went. I presume he just watched what he wanted- they had enough TVs in that house, and I couldn't imagine the Winters family sitting down to catch a film together. The thought made me sad.

Finally I sighed, rolling my eyes. " _Okay_ , what about a romcom?"

He glanced at me - relieved that i'd spoken, perhaps?- and shrugged."I prefer dramas."

I raised my eyebrows, holding back a smile. I wasn't surprised. "Really?"

"Theyre my favourite genre to film. The action and romance stuff I do is nowwhere near as difficult." He shrugged. "I like a challenge."

I thought about the spark that had appeared as be'd discussed his film, and made a jump. "I figure that's what your current film is then- a drama? Probably a serious one."

He narrowed his eyes; I theight I felt a hint of surprise tthere. His guard was slipping a bit, I could tell. "I thought you couldn't read me."

I smirked. "I can't get in your head- doesn't mean you're unreadable. I'm a skilled emotion reader." This wasn't true. For someone with a gift like mine, I could be incredibly obtuse. Still, I wanted to keep him on his nose- the pampered prince really needed a kick up the backside.

He frowned. "But, how did you-" tHe frown morphed into a sigh as I smiled innocently at him, and he appeared to realise it wasn't worh it."Never mind."

 _One-nill to Paige Miller_ , I thought, smirking.

"What are we watching then?" I asked, gaze returning to the screen as I flicked through the films. "The notebook, The Breakfast Club- ooh, Tangled's on here!"

His eyes widened. "Please, no. How about Good Will Hunting?"

I glanced at it. "I've never seen that."

His eyes widened. "Never _seen_ …? It's a classic. That settles it, then. We have to watch it."

I wrinkled my nose. "Is it one of those pretentious drama-y ones again? I hate those."

Evan smiled at me, his eyes warm. "I'm sure you'll like it."

I scooched back on the bed, till I was leaning against the pillows on my headboard, and rolled my eyes. I could never refuse those eyes. "Good Will Hunting it is then." Evan hadn't moved, so I patted the duvet beside me. "Come on. It won't watch itself."

"Sorry," He murmured with a smile, moving to sit beside me. "I got distracted."

I made a gagging motion. "If you say by me I'll be sick."

He chuckled, winking. "Something like that."

I rolled my eyes again, but inside I was smiling.

Over the course of the movie, we both got more comfortable. Evan wrapped his arm around me and I leant on his chest as we watched the screen. Movies usually made me sleepy, but watching Good Will Hunting kept me wide awake the whole time. I watched, feeling on edge, hoping that Robin Williams would get through to Will, would let him see how good his gift was, what he could achieve.

Finally, the credits appeared. I stared at the screen, feeling an inexplicable lump of emotion in my throat.

"What did you think?" I asked Evan, turning to face him.

I felt him shrug. "It was okay."

" _Okay_?" I turned to him, shocked. "How can you say it's only okay? It was… it was..."

He grinned. "I can see you liked it." He ate another piece of popcorn. "I've seen it a few times, though. And I was on the set when they filmed it. Kind of ruined it for me."

My mouth fell open, mind reeling. "You were on set when… they _filmed it?_ How is that even…?"

"Matt's a good friend." He replied, nonchalantly.

My head was spinning. "A good _friend?_ You know Matt Damon?! Oh my _god_ , you know Matt Damon." I was mind-blown; I mean, I knew Evan was famous, but to think of him hanging out with Matt Damon was unbelievable. And he was so relaxed about it; he'd probably walk past Beyonce and wouldn't bat an eyelid.

It took me a minute to realise he was chuckling.

"What?" I asked, frowning.

He grinned. "It was a _joke_ , doofus. The film was made in the 90's."

My frown deepened into a scowl and I thumped him. How could he lie like that? "That is _so_ not funny, Evan."

He was still grinning. "I think it was." He are some more popcorn. "Maybe I should go into comedy after all."

"Nope." I humphed, grumpily."Definitely not."

"Hmm…" He grinned. "What about now?" There was a wicked sparkle in Evan's eyes as he suddenly dug his hands into my side and began to tickle me, causing me to wiggle and squirm.

"Evan!" I squealed m, jerking around. I was _super_ ticklish. "Stop it!"

He was grinning as he tickled under my arms, making me kick out visviousky; no one was safe when I was being tickled. "Get off!" I exclaimed, laughing uncontrollably.

"No can do I'm afraid, Miss Miller." He rolled on top of me to pin my legs down, shifting his weight so he was resting his elbows on the bed.

"Truce." I pleaded, gasping and grinning.

He smiled, brushing a piece of hair back from my ear with a gentleness I never would have expected from him. His eyes were sparkling with a tenderness that turned my stomach to jelly. "Fine." He breathed, finally, his breath brushing my lips.

Suddenly I was very aware of how close we were. My heart thundered through my rib cage, and I could feel Evan's through his t-shirt too as we stared at each other. A heartbeat later, he leant in, and then I was lost in him. This kiss was softer than before, sweeter, and his lips moulded into mine until we were both shooting stars, burning across the sky.

We moved against each other, twisting and turning, until eventually I was on top of Evan, my hand entwined in his hair as his roved the skin on my bare skin on my back that had appeared as my top rose up. I waited with baited breath for one long, perfect heartbeat, before pouncing. I used his momentary distraction to pin him down, digging my fingers under his arms before he could react.

He let out a loud yelp as I tickled him, giggling as his expression morphed from one of surprise to outrage.

"No fair!" He gasped, eyes wide. "You cheat."

I laughed evilly. "There are no rules in this game, I'm afraid."

"Paige, stop it." He moaned, chuckling in spite of himself as I tickled him. Who would have guessed that _Evan Winters_ was ticklish _?_

"Never." I declared, grinning devilishly as I prepared myself to tickle him again, but he was too quick. One of his hands had escaped my knees and he quickly grasped my wrist before I could strike.

I laughed. "Evan, wait-"

But his body had tensed beneath me.

I frowned, pausing in my actions to look around, wondering if he'd heard something to make him freeze. But then I followed his gaze, and saw what he was staring at. My breathing stopped.

The sleeve of my top had risen to my elbow, revealing two bruises on my wrist. They looked just like pressure marks from a hand.

My heart jumped into my throat as I quickly tugged down my sleeve, avoiding Evan's gaze. He dropped my wrist like it was hot, and seemed to be silently processing what he'd seen as I quickly climbed off him.

Thoughts rushed through my head at the speed of light. I didn't have any idea that they were there. That they'd been there all this time.

There was a long pause.

"Paige…"

"It's not what it looks like." I told him, quickly, still unable to turn around and look him in the eye.

His voice was low and hoarse. It felt as though an icy cold had spread into the room. "I didn't say what it looks like." He murmured, gently.

Another pause. I could hear his brain ticking. My heart was thundering in my ears. Finally, he swallowed. "Paige… if someone hurt you…" Evan's voice was dangerously soft. Controlled. Furious.

I turned to him with shining eyes, kneeling back on the bed. "Evan, I promise you. No one hurt me. It's… not like that."

He didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes was guarded, uncertain.

"Look-" I pulled down my sleeve. "I'm not trying to hide it. I'm not being bullied or abused, or anything. I just… it was an accident."

He frowned. "You were acting weird when I arrived- skittish, less bubbly than usual. I thought it was me, but…." He watched me carefully, eyes more guarded than I'd seen them in the last two days; he looked like the Evan Id first met- the boy who concealed his emotions.

"It isn't like that, I swear. Please Evan, you've got to believe me." I replied, somewhat desperately. This was why I didn't tell anyone- I couldn't for starters, because most of my friends weren't savants. And even savants didn't always understand. My Dad was ill, he was struggling. He couldn't always control his gift, like many others- like Yves, the benedict brother. Sometimes people got hurt in our world, and it was an accident, a simple mistake. I couldn't have Evan thinking my Dad was a monster.

He swallowed, finally letting out a sigh as he held open his arms."I do. Of course I do, Paige."

I clambered towards him, feeling a sudden rush of emotion as his warm arms surrounded me. Tears pricked at my eyes as I met his steady gaze. "Tell me what happened." He said.

Evan listened carefully as I told him the story I'd never told anyone before- about my Mum's death, and my Dad's depression, made so much worse when he would drink. I told him about the years I spent overwhelmed by his emotions, how they would swamp me down so much that I couldn't move, could barely breathe. How he didn't understand the effect his grief had on me- how my gift amplified his emotions, and being in such close proximity with him all the time, combined with my own pain, made the weight of it almost unbearable. I told Evan about my grandma, how Dad pushed her away, and how his memories would swamp me when he let his gift get out of control- as it had done the night before. I knew he couldn't know he was doing it, but it still hurt.

Finally, I had finished. It felt as though a weight had lifted off my chest even without Evan's reply. I hadn't realised how much I'd needed to just talk about everything.

Evan squeezed me tighter. "I can't believe you've had to put up with all that for so long." He murmured. "How you've carried on."

I shook my head. "Please don't pity me. I can't bare that."

He stroked my hair. "Paige, I don't pity you. Far from it. I admire you."

I frowned. "Admire me?"

"Yeah." He said it like it was obvious. "You're incredibly brave, and stronger than anyone I've met. I thought all that crap with my mum was bad, but…"

I grinned in spite of myself. "Is this one of those 'who's life is shittier?' competitions? Cus I'm pretty sure I'd get the brownie."

He smiled, kissing my head. "I'm just glad you told me."

"I still don't know what I can do about it though. Dad _needs_ me. Without my healing, he… well, he just spirals." I sighed. "My biggest fear is… well it's hard to explain."

He gave me a squeeze. "Try."

I sighed again. "Have you seen Tangled?" I asked.

Evan frowned, surprised. This obviously hadn't taken the turn he'd expected. "Er, the Disney film? No."

I'd had to admit I wasn't surprised. I took a deep breath. "Well, in that movie, the princess- Rapunzel, she's called- has this magic hair, right? And when it glows it makes whoever touches it young. So, right at the start of the film, Rapunzel's kidnapped by this witch who wants to be young, and-"

He smiled dryly. "Sounds terrifying."

I groaned. "Evan, _listen_. So, Rapunzel is kidnapped and the witch keeps her for years and years locked up in this tower. She even brings her up as her daughter, feeds her, hugs her, gives her things, and all the while Rapunzel lets her brush and touch her hair and keeps her young and the whole time she has no idea…"

"I really don't get where you're going with this."

I groaned. "It's just… _sometimes_ ," I scrunched my eyes up, trying to find the words. "Sometimes I get scared that… that my Dad is like the witch. Like he only loves me, only wants me around for my gift."

Immediately, as soon as I'd uttered the words, I felt guilty. I collapsed against him and covered my face with my arms. "Urgh. I'm a horrible person."

"Hey." I felt Evan shift beside behind, and then he was gazing down at me, rubbing his hands along my arms and tracing warm patterns on my skin. His face was gentler than I'd ever seen it, his grey eyes creased with concern. "You're not a horrible person."

"But how can I think that?" I whispered, my eyes burning with tears once again, "He's my Dad."

"Hey, hey. Come here." He pulled me closer to him, rubbing soothing circles on my back. I leant into him, breathing in his scent, his warmth, his everything. I exhaled as he held me.

Finally, he released me, folding a stray hair behind my ear. "So you control his emotions at all times? Everyday?"

I nodded. My throat had constricted; I'd never told anyone any of this before, and although it felt good, it was terrifying. "He… I think it _is_ depression, as much as I hate to admit it." I confessed, quietly. "So I try and treat it as an… illness, I guess. I try and make him happy as much as possible, but the grief is… always there."

Evan frowned, trying to grasp it. "So, you're like medication for him?"

My brows tugged together. "I guess so. I've never really seen it like that. I was just always there to soothe him. That's what I do."

Evan frowned, his hand still resting on my shoulder. "That must be exhausting."

My heart clenched a little at his concern. I still wasn't used to someone caring solely about _me_. "Not really. I'm used to it."

"Do you know what happens if he doesn't get his meds?"

I pondered that. "No, I guess not. I've never really left him long enough to see any effects."

He was frowning, trying to think his way around the problem. "Maybe you should try it."

I frowned. "But wouldn't that just make things worse?" I couldn't imagine just letting my Dad wallow in his pain.

Evan sighed. "Sometimes it has to get worse before it gets better. Maybe your Dad needs to see just how deep he's in so he'll do something about it. Otherwise he's an emotional anchor, tying you down. Hiding his emotions can't be good for him, and the draining effect definitely isn't good for you."

I smiled softly, but I felt far from happy. "When did you get so philosophical?"

He stroked my hair, wearing a fond smile. "I've still got a lot of interesting quirks you've yet to discover."

I sighed, my mind returning to Dad. "I don't know, Evan." I admitted. "I'm not sure I can do it to him."

"Maybe it's not a question of whether you're able to, Paige. Maybe you have to. And you wouldn't be doing it to him. You'd be doing it _for_ him."

I looked into his determined gaze, and felt my resolve begin to shatter. What he said made sense, and I knew the right thing to do. It just wasn't going to be easy.

"Okay." I relented. "You're right. I'll do it."

He squeezed my hand. "That's my girl."

My heart soared as he uttered those words, filling me with warmth, but before I could reply there was a loud slam from downstairs. I'd been so preoccupied, I hadn't listened for Dad's car.

"Paige!" He called, "I'm home!"

Panic seared through me and I scrambled up. "Shit!"

"I could just go downstairs?" Evan suggested. "Explain that you invited me over?"

Was he _crazy?_ "My dad might be sick, but he's still the strictest person I know." I reminded him.

"Right." He glanced around. "What do I do?"

"The window." I said, decisively. "There's a wooden structure, covered in thick vines below my window. "You should be able to climb out of it."

"The window?" Evan hissed, glancing at it.I could hear my Dad's footsteps at the bottom of the stairs. "That's your master plan?"

If my adrenaline wasn't pumping, his reaction might have been almost comical.

His footsteps began to head towards my room. "Have you got a better idea? _Go!"_

Evan grumbled something incoherent, but did as I said and opened the window. He glanced down on the darkness. "Paige, I'm not sure-"

"Go!" I hissed again. "He's coming!"

Evan rolled his eyes and quickly pulled me towards him for a kiss. For a second, he washed over my mind and I forgot all about my father. Then reality thumped back. "Go." I breathed, softer this time.

Evan grinned. "I'll call you." He promised.

I nodded, too breathless for reply, and he began to climb down. Suddenly, I remembered who I was and what planet I was on, and shut the window. I dived into my bed and opened my laptop just as Dad entered the room.

I feigned a yawn, shutting the screen. "Oh, hey Dad. How was the meal?"

He glanced suspiciously around the room. "Did I hear voices in here?"

I smiled innocently. "I was just watching a movie."

"Oh." His gaze flickered away from all the potential hiding places in the room back to me, as he ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, it was good thanks. You should head to bed soon- it's late."

"I was just thinking that." I replied, smiling. "Well- night Dad."

"Night." He murmured, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as I heard his footsteps dad away, I scrambled to the window and flung it open. "Evan?" I hissed, but I was met with silence.

He had gone.


End file.
